


Human Experiment

by Centelope



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Rape trigger warning, Gen, Human Experiments, Hurt!Jim, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Emergency, Panic Attacks, Protective Bones, Torture, Unintentional torture, but that comes later, have fun reading this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 01:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14368356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centelope/pseuds/Centelope
Summary: The Bovis people know everything about every race before accepting help from them.When Jim is chosen to visit them on behalf of the Federation, he is willing to let them do what they want with him, but little does he know how they get their information...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my new fic after 'Sacrifice Yourself, Captain" was finished. Lots more whump in this, I'm aiming for 10 chapters max.

Kirk resisted the urge to slam his head onto the desk. His crew were scheduled for shore leave.

Right now.

“Bovis II?”

Pike, his friend and mentor, nodded and gestured a finger at the PADD screen to load more information.

“They’re a race of people who pick their alliances very prudently. They’ve never agreed to form a…’friendship’, with the Federation. Until now.”

Jim glanced at the 3D rotating image of the species’ faces on the screen. They appeared mostly human, if not for their strangely coloured eyes. Almost like…contact lenses.

“Why now?” he asked, a niggling suspicious forming at the back of his mind, “If I’m not wrong, we’ve been trying to get them to join us for a millennium?”

Or perhaps he was just stupidly suspicious.

Pike didn’t seem to disagree with him however, “We at the board are wondering the same thing. But it’s too big of an opportunity to miss out on,” he pulled the PADD away from Jim and leaned forwards on his elbows, “You’ll have to be careful.”

Jim snorted, procuring his shit-eating grin, “When am I never not?”

The admiral frowned at him, “I’m serious, Jim. This is suspicious as hell, we don’t know what they want. They could be planning to take you hostage.”

Kirk smirked and shook his head in dismissal, “C’mon man, you’re starting to sound like Bones. I’ll be _fine.”_

Pike opened his mouth to retort, but an alarm from the table comm interrupted what would have probably been a lecture worse than what Bones could do.

 Jim immediately reached for the button in the middle of the table and thumped a fist on it.

“Kirk here.”

Uhura’s face flashed up on the small screen, “Uhura, sir. We’re in orbit of Bovis II and are receiving a transmission from the surface of the planet.”

Jim gestured a quirky eyebrow to Pike, who rolled his eyes, before turning his attention back to Uhura.

“Patch it through down here.”

“Aye, sir.”

The picture flickered white and was replaced by an image of the human-like Bovis people, their eyes looking like something you’d find in a fancy-dress shop back on Earth.

How does he address them? Does he call them gentlemen? Are there even genders on their planet? The information log didn’t prepare him for this mandatory part of the mission…

He cleared his throat and addressed the creatures.

“I’m Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the Starship Enterprise, who am I talking to?”

 _There, now they’ll have to tell me themselves,_ he thought proudly.

“Hello, James. I am Ruri of Bovis, and this is my husband Cadel.”

He blinked in surprise.

_They sound so human._

“Ruri. Cadel.” He greeted with one of his winning smiles, “I’ll beam my landing party down on your orders. Whenever you’re ready.”

Ruri tilted her head and nodded slowly, “Who is that human with you?”

Kirk raised an eyebrow and turned to Pike, assuming that was who she was referring to.

Pike looked as surprised as he did, quickly leaning towards the comm, “My name is Christopher Pike, I’m ranked Admiral at Starfleet.” He replied with a hint of caution in his voice.

On the screen, Ruri turned to Cadel, both nodding once to each other.

“Christopher Pike,” Cadel began, stepping slightly in front of Ruri, “I must speak to James Kirk alone, regarding the conditions of his arrival.”

Jim frowned, “Do you require any help?”

Ruri shook her head and replied simply, “No.”

Deciding they couldn’t do anything to him while he was up in his ship of safety, Jim shrugged and gestured Pike off with a wave of his hand.

His friend looked sceptical, but Jim persisted,

“S’alright, I got this,” he muttered harshly, turning back to the screen and offering a weak smile.

From behind him, Kirk heard the squeak of the chair beside him scraping back, then the footsteps of his mentor walking out the room, not looking away from the screen.

Finally, Ruri nodded her approval and continued, “Captain Kirk, we have several conditions you must agree to upon your arrival.”

_I heard as much._

“Of course. Hit me with it.”

Cadel twitched and frowned, “Hit you with what? Captain, we have no desire to injure you.”

Kirk snorted, “You sound like my first officer. Just…tell me the conditions.”

Ruri nearly rolled her eyes judging by the way she averted her gaze but continued regardless.

“Are you aware of our need to collect data from the species we are considering to alliance with before accepting their proposal?”

He nodded, “Of course, I’ve read up on your culture. A sensible choice actually, not a bad idea to do the same thing ourselves.”

Ruri smiled sweetly for a change, “Thank you, Captain. As you know, we will require much evidence on your human history as we have no way to access it. There are myths, of course, but we will carry out any means necessary to find the information we want.”

Jim stomach started doing flips. Now it made sense why these creatures wanted to catch him alone.

“Not by means of torture, I hope?”

Simultaneously, Ruri snorted while Cadel began laughing, which brought Jim some much needed comfort.

_God. Come on, Jim, not every alien race out there is out to kill you._

“Yeah, of course, sorry,” he chuckled off nervously, the other two people on screen still sniggering to themselves, “Shouldn’t have made assumptions.”

Ruri let out a final giggle and shook her head, “It’s alright. I assure you, we are quite harmless,” she reassured him, “We will just require your co-operation in answering our questions we have of your species, before we can make a final decision in us joining your Federation. It is of course quite a big event for us.”

Kirk nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, I’ll answer anything you want. My landing party will be down with me, just gotta say the word.”

Cadel took over from Ruri and discreetly added, “You must come to us alone, James. We are only two and would prefer to deal with you one-on-one.”

The distrusting feeling resumed gnawing at the back of his mind again. Why did they want him to come down alone? They _must_ know it was mandatory to come down with an away team for protection.

Did they want him unprotected?

Although, they did mention there was only two of them, and usually captives come with large amounts of people.

Then again…showing distrust was _not_ a good look on the Federation.

He’d have to do this for everyone’s sake. There was no choice.  
Pike said this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Starfleet and he wasn’t about to let him down.

“Alright,” he relented, slumping his shoulders in submission, “I’ll come on my own. But no funny business, alright? I can call down my security escort at the first sign of trouble.”

Cadel and Ruri exchanged looks to one another for a second before nodding gently to Kirk.

“Very well. We are ready for you to beam down, now.”

* * *

 

 

Jim couldn’t push aside the people of Bovis tormenting his mind.

He always said he had a good nose for danger, but this was something different.

“Jim!”

Kirk jumped and spun behind him, to see none other than his friend and chief medical officer McCoy jogging up to him, latching onto his medkit.

“Heard you were plannin’ on goin’ down there on your own.”

_Oh boy. Here he goes..._

“The hell were you _thinkin’?_ You don’t know these people; these people don’t know you! You gotta let me come with you!”

Jim sighed, “Bones, they said they only way we’re doing this is if I come down alone. Don’t want to take on more than one person or something.”

Bones glared at him, “And that doesn’t seem _suspicious_ to you? Dammit, Jim, these people are lackin’ in planetary ties for a reason, they’ve probably killed ‘em all!”

_God damn it._

“I can’t refuse, or they’ll retract their offer and Pike’ll kill me,” he shut his eyes and took a breath to steady himself, “Look, I’ll ask to beam up at the first sign of trouble.”

Bones gritted his teeth, staring Jim down for a second before whipping out his medkit and cracking open the case.

“If you’re planning on giving me any hypos, don’t bother.” He’d snap the damn thing in half.

“Nah, your last physical was only last week, you’re good,” Bones took out a white bracelet and snapped it over Jim’s wrist. “ _Now_ I can see if you’re in trouble.”

_A med-bracelet. You’ve gotta be kidding me._

“I—Bones, I don’t need this,” he stuttered, staring at it as if it were about to break his wrist any second.

Bones snorted, “Don’t be stupid. I don’t trust you to go down there and ask for beam up when you need it. You’ll probably wait ‘til you’ve had all your ribs cracked and stomped on by a stampede of Gorn before you call us to get you.”

_True._

“And besides, if things start looking bad we can beam you straight back, regardless of whether you told us to,” he stated matter-of-factly, “Like if you _were_ taken hostage.”

 

Smart move, Bones. Perhaps this contraption of invasive privacy wasn’t too bad after all.

 

He gave one last look at the clunky piece of plastic on his wrist before shrugging Bones off, “Yeah, okay, but don’t bring me up for something as mundane as panicking. I might just get tense.”

Bones scowled and loudly snapped his medkit shut.

“Of course, _Captain,_ show me your medical degree and I’ll go by _your_ recommendations,”

Jim smirked, “Show me yours and I’ll—”

_“Captain Kirk to the transporter room. Captain Kirk to the transporter room.”_

He smiled feebly. “That’s me, Bones. I’ll see ya for a drink later,” he jested, patting Bones on the shoulder as the doctor scowled while he walked on.

 

Kirk marched on for ten more seconds before shouting back to him, “Better not trip over on my way down, I might break a leg!”

He grinned in anticipation for the grumpy man’s reply.

_“Shut up you over-zealous infant!”_

 

If those were the last words Jim was ever going to hear, he would be happy with them.

* * *

 

 

As the golden haze finished circling around him, the outside world of the planet was revealed.

Except this wasn’t on a planet, this was inside a building. For a second, Jim was beginning to think he was transported to the wrong co-ordinates.

Glowering with a muttered sigh, he flipped open his communicator.

“Scotty? I’m in the middle of what could possibly be mistaken as a drug alley,” he retorted sardonically, “Did you beam me into the right place? This doesn’t look right.”

All around him was a dimly lit but wide corridor, like the one you would find in a school. There were at least six doors that led to god-knows where, but it smelt pretty musty.

“Aye Cap’n, I’ve just checked, you’re in ta right place.”

Jim frowned, “This place doesn’t look populated. I think I’m on my own in here.”

There was static from the other end of his communicator, before;

“Ah, there are two life forms—no, four life forms coming your way. I can bet they are the representatives you talked to earlier.”

Oh, thank God for that then.

“Alright Scotty, I’ll contact you if I need anything. Kirk out.”

He flipped the communicator shut and observed the room, squinting from the dark lighting as he did so.

It was likely that Ruri and Cadel weren’t expecting him to arrive so promptly. He wondered briefly which room he was going to be led into when they finally arrived.

In any case transporting into a dark, unlit empty room was never a good sign and definitely not a very accommodating entrance.

“Captain!”

Jim glanced up as one of the doors on the left slid open easily, revealing both Ruri and Cadel storming out.

He sighed in relief.

“I apologise for the delay, we were not expecting you to arrive for another hour. But that is of no consequence to us. How are you feeling?”

Jim offered a nervous grin to Ruri and scratched absentmindedly at his neck, “I’m happy to finally be here, big day for us as and all as well.”

Cadel nodded in his reply, “What is that enclosed on your wrist?”

Jim raised an eyebrow and glanced down at it—the med-bracelet. Of course, they didn’t see him wearing it during the transmission.

Damn it, Bones.

“Ah, it’s a med bracelet. Monitors my vitals, y’know, just in case.”

Ruri exchanged concerned looks with Cadel and pushed him on, “Why?”

Crap, now they probably knew he was suspicious of them. Not a good way to hold a negotiation.

“It’s…just in case the planet atmosphere affects me more than expected,” he informed them slowly, trying to think up a response on the go, “And…in case I get injured, for some reason,” he added quickly for good measure.

Both of the creatures seemed satisfied by his response, and began walking in the opposite direction

Not knowing what to do, Jim folded his arms against his chest and followed.

“Cold around here, huh?” he noted, feeling the goosebumps tickling his skin. He wasn’t sure whether it was from anxiety or if it was because it was generally cold.

Probably best not to find out.

“I suspect our planet is distinctly colder than the climate you are used to,” Ruri informed him, approaching a door and swiftly typing in a key code, “But don’t worry, you won’t be here for too long,” her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Offering a worried smile back, Jim watched as Ruri gestured for Cadel to head inside first, and then Jim.

As he entered the room, lights suddenly flicked on out of nowhere, surprising his eyes and causing a blinding ache for a second.

Jim resisted the urge to swear and slapped a hand over his eyes.

“Christ, are your lights powered by the sun?”

“I apologise, are they causing you pain? Cadel, do tone down the lights for our guest. For now.”

Jim groaned a weak _thank you_ into the palm of his hands covering his eyes and visually saw when it became darker as the grey dots over his eyes turned black.

Sighing, he took his hands away from his eyes, muttered another _thanks_ and took in inventory of the room.

 

Instantly, his anxiety was back full-force again.

 

The room was small, like an average-sized bathroom, outfitted with a large overhead light—probably the culprit of his headache—with equipment looking remarkably similar to a clinic.  
A narrow white table was slap bang in the middle of the room, likely for the ‘patient’, with machines of vastly superior technology surrounding the outskirts of the room.

All in all, it looked like an experimental clinic used on animals back in the early twenty-first century. But for humans.

He swallowed hard.

“I…believe I misinterpreted when you said you were going to find _information about humans using any means necessary.”_

 

_TBC..._

* * *

**Did you enjoy this piece of textual work? Do you desire it's continuation? It is only logical therefore to leave a kudos or comment.**  (please)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets himself into some serious trouble, and no-one is there to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna warn you now, this is has some swearing and disturbing scenes. This does set the baseline for the traumatic event and aftermath next chapter though.

_All in all, it looked like an experimental clinic used on animals back in the early twenty-first century. But for humans._

_Jim swallowed hard._

_“I…believe I misinterpreted when you said you were going to find information about humans using any means necessary.”_

* * *

 

“Y’know, it sounds cliché as hell but if you wanted to know something, you could’ve just asked.”

Cadel looked up from his desk, at a computer screen looking like that of early PC’s on Earth, which looked strange in contrast to the highly technological devices scattered around the room.

“Well, humans are quite privy to lying, don’t you think so?” he seemed generally unphased with how ludicrous the whole room looked.

Jim remained standing _in front_ of the table, already having flashbacks from similar looking exam tables on the Enterprise and having allergic reactions to every single vaccine he ever received.

The white one in front of him looked exactly the same, barring the fact it was ultra-thin instead of clunky. He could practically smell the sterile aroma coming off of it.

Something told him he was never gonna go near Bones ever again after this.

Ruri nonchalantly gestured to the table and raised an eyebrow of impatience at Jim:

“Well, you gonna lie down or not?”

Jim held himself back for snorting, in fear of his supposed captives losing whatever patience they had left.

“It doesn’t exactly look very welcoming in here,” Jim offered, his heart thudding in his chest, “But the table looks comfy, I’ll give you that.”

It looked even more padded than the ones they had in sickbay.

Ruri glanced over to Cadel, expecting a reaction from Jim’s retort, but apparently the other man was too busy with whatever he was doing on the computer.

She looked back at Jim and pointed to the table again.

“I’m trying to be easy-going with you, Kirk, but you’re trying my patience.”

Jim froze, unsure of what to do for once.

On one hand, they _could_ be dangerous and had led him into a trap, and he would be screwed either way.

But if he refused, they would likely either force him to lie on it out of frustration and get rough, when in reality, perhaps they _would_ be careful with him? The alliance agreement would likely also be revoked.

Sighing, Jim slumped into a sitting position on the padded white table, a stark unexpected difference from the tables on the Enterprise. It was so damn _comfy._

“Is this table a trap to get me to sleep on it?” he joked, using his humour to hide his anxiety.

“I presume you find it comfortable,” Ruri replied, stepping beside the table and pulling up some very clean looking armrests.

In Jim’s head, he assumed in his situation he would be strapped down to a dirty worn table and left there much to the disappointment of his back.

But right now, it looked like he was being held hostage by a small outta space private hospital room.

_God these people are so confusing._

He continued with his endeavour in finding what he had got himself into, “So? You gonna tell me your evil plan, or are you just gonna keep it a secret? I’m on the edge of my seat here!”

Literally. He was on the edge of the table, ready to jump up and defend himself.

Cadel stopped typing on his computer and swivelled to face Kirk, “Evil plan?”

_Or I’m just gonna offend them so much they kill me anyway._

“Yeah. Y’know, whatcha plan on doing with me. Here. On this table.”

Cadel raised an eyebrow and stood up from his wheelie-chair, “Oh, right,” he looked generally surprised, “We’re not…you think we’re gonna hurt you, aren’t you?”

_Bingo._

He nodded feebly.

His ego was usually too immense to allow weakness, but right now, anxiety had powered over his self-control.

“Uh, I guess so. Two strange aliens lead me, alone, into an unlit, sterile smelling room, bright up the room so much that my exploding eyes give you time to deadlock the door, then you tell me to lie down on a table surrounded with ridiculously superior equipment, and then not telling me just what the hell you plan on doing.”

He took a breath from his speech, but regardless of what his words said, their questioning expressions to one another led him to cautiously lie back on the table, as if to say _hey look, I’m lying down without asking, so don’t kill me._

Ruri was first to speak, “James…perhaps we as a culture are much different than we originally anticipated,” she sat on the chair Cadel just abandoned and wheeled over to Jim.  
She began to explain further.

“Upon receiving newcomers, we investigate every aspect of their species. How they think, their requirements to survive, their desires, how the body works. Extrapolating their memories and biology findings into a data bank to be processed by our superiors enables us to decide candidates worthy for an alliance.”

Jim nodded, processing the information himself, beginning to understand everything…until one particular aspect of the explanation finally reached his brain.

“Uh, _extrapolating memories?”_

Ruri nodded.

“ _Biology findings_? What the hell? I could give you a damn diagram.”

Ruri shook her head, “That’s not necessary, we need to make the discoveries for ourselves. Again, you are known to lie, we know that at least.”

Jim squinted at the urge to make another joke during this dire situation, “So you’re telling me you can’t lie?”

Jim watched Cadel’s relaxing expression when he seemed satisfied by Ruri answering all the questions, then moved his head to follow the man, as he walked behind the bed and disappeared from his line of sight.

Ruri paused. Then shrugged, “No. Not really.”

Jim turned back to Ruri and grinned at the opportunity, “You really do sound like my first officer.”

At that, the Bovis creature looked interested, but stood up from her chair and began placing Jim’s arms on the armrests.

“What species is your first officer?” she asked, probably out of curtesy rather than interest.

“Vulcan,” he replied, staring intently at his arms, wondering why the hell he was allowing them to do this. Perhaps they had some strange airborne compliance-drug or something.

“I see,” Ruri seemed distinctly uninterested now, standing back to look at her work of art, aka placing arms on armrests, then nodded in satisfaction.

“You’re ready. I want to thank you for your obedience. It is a rare occurrence.”

_Not a drug then._

“Believe me, if I didn’t feel so threatened by _my_ superior I would not be so easy to sway.”

He was doing this for Pike. No matter what would happen, if there was a chance the Federation would praise him even a little for getting an alliance with the Bovis people…even pain was worth it.

But this didn’t look so bad anyway.

 

Jim was thrown out of his thoughts when Cadel had resurfaced into his line-of-sight, staring intently at Jim’s face to the point where it unnerved him, then the tall man nodded to Ruri.

“Fetch me when you are finished,” he announced in a tone of such authority that he could probably pose as a Starfleet admiral, “Your medication is next to the fabrica device.”

It took all Jim’s willpower not to comment on the name of this device. He knew Latin, fabrica was Latin for device. So technically, it was called the _device device._

As Cadel left the room, Ruri patted Jim’s hand as the door hissed shut, a comforting smile upon her face. She grasped the medbracelet around Jim’s wrist and easily broke the lock open.

“Try not to feel alarmed, my husband is quite abrupt and takes this seriously,” she reassured him, tucking the bracelet into her pocket.

Jim nodded slowly, turning his head to follow her as she walked around the bed and off behind, where he couldn’t see.

“Why the medication?” he asked, as she suddenly reappeared again seconds later with a small vial of red liquid, “Are you ill?”

Ruri chuckled without making eye-contact, reaching out and grabbing a trolley with her free hand and wheeling it to the foot of the table.

“No. Sorry, as I said, Cadel is in a mind of his own. He wasn’t talking to me.”

Jim frowned, his eyes bulging in intensity when the short female picked up a sharp looking object attached to a thin red tube from the trolley, matching the colour of the vial.

“Then who was he talking—!” he winced when Ruri stuck the sharp end in his wrist, leaving the flimsy tube hanging loosely off to the side. He was beginning to loathe the idea of letting her poke and prod at him. “Ugh…talking to?”

Ruri concentrated on pouring the vial into the tube, much to Jim’s already thudding heart’s dismay.

 

She placed the vial back on the tray and smiled at him sweetly, “You!”

 

All the breath left his lungs at once.

_Shit. What the hell did she put in me?_

_Not to mention I’m allergic to everything…_

 

“I-I’m—” Jim wasn’t sure what to say or how to feel. The stubborn part of his mind was telling him to flat out be cocky to present a false charade of confidence, but his gut was failing him and making him stutter, his heart racing.

“It might take a few minutes to work, so don’t worry if you’re slow to lose feeling. It won’t happen all at once,” she explained casually, moving the tray to the other side of the table, then leaning over him to watch closely.

“Lose feeling? In what? What won’t happen?” he stuttered out, “I’m allergic to a lot of stuff, I have to go back to the ship, I have severe allergic reactions to a lot of alien-y stuff and I know we’re trying to come to an agreement so if I leave it’ll forfeit it but just listen—"

“Relax, James,” Ruri soothed him, which was not helping as Jim was beginning to feel his extremities tingle, “Our technology is vastly superior to yours. If your body rejects the medication, I can cure the reaction with one quick injection, just like the one I gave you now.”

_That doesn’t help!_

“Why am I…” he tried to move his arms away from the armrests but found he couldn’t make them move.

Jim practically felt bile rise to his throat.

“Wha…th’ ell…av you…done…?”

Ruri placed a gentle hand over Jim’s cheek, thumbing his cheekbones as what he assumed was supposed to comfort him.

“It’s a paralysis drug which does not affect your nervous system. It is quite experimental, but it’s cross-compatible. I use it on all species we come across.”

Now unable to command any of his muscles to move, Jim’s heart was thumping so hard it was beginning to hurt.

At least he could still _feel._

“If you have an adverse reaction, I will help you. For now, just try to relax through the entire procedure,” her thumb still thumbing Jim’s cheek.

 

 _What procedure?_ He wanted to yell at her, but his muscles were not obeying him, leaving his terrified and trapped alone in his body, at the mercy of…whoever this female was.

Thoughts of pampering his ego were long since forgotten.

“It might make you feel a bit better if I explained what’s gonna happen,” Ruri offered, removing her hand from Jim’s face and reaching from behind the table, which Jim couldn’t see.

He wished sincerely that Bones had done a better job at hiding the med-bracelet, perhaps on his ankle. This extended period of terror was bound to set off alarms, but having it removed meant that it wasn’t transmitting anything. Perhaps eventually Bones would think something was up.

“Like I said earlier, we extrapolate memories and process them. Forgive me if I don’t understand your uncertainty, it’s standard procedure here on Bovis,” her face tensed up as she hauled a heavy device over Jim’s forehead and clamped it under his jaw, forcing his chin up in an uncomfortable position.

His breathing was rapid and wheezing, the metal frame tucked around his face caused problems, as the clamp on the bottom of it was tucked tightly under Jim’s jaw, forcing his mouth shut. The restricted movement was causing him to hyperventilate through his nose. Soon enough he wasn’t going to get enough air.

“Now, this frame is just to keep your head nice and still, as we’ve had problems in the past of the drug wearing off early and causing permanent memory loss,” she explained, then strode to the other side of the room, bending over to the computer to read something.

Jim on the other hand was seeing stars. His vision was flooded with black spots from lack of oxygen, feeling every rise and fall of his chest. His wrists were slack and splayed out on the arm rests.

What made it worse was the fact he could see no way out of this. He couldn’t move. He was powerless.

Ruri soon returned, wheeling over on a chair, hoisting along large overhead monitor with her.

Aside the table, Ruri manoeuvred the blank overhead monitor on its front so that Jim could see it from his flat position directly above him. He presumed the flexible cables it was connected to made it possible.

“These are some memories from other candidates,” she explained, fiddling with something in her pocket; then the monitor flashed and came to life.

Playing back was some vivid imagery and videos of random life events.

Even something as mundane as eating, walking, gardening, talking, and yes, unfortunately toileting.

But then more captivating imagery came to light; beautiful landscapes and different worlds, witnessing deaths of loved ones, marriage, watching children grow up – it was all within the eyes of a person as if seeing it for himself.

 

Then it went blank.

 

“You see? That’s all it is, nothing too scary,” she comforted him, wheeling behind him again. This time, Jim was unable to move his head to watch her moving away.

“I didn’t show you…ugh…the memories over here…cos’ they consist of prisoners most of the time…and it’s pretty disturbing stuff… _bovisiah_ this is heavy!”

Jim assumed _bovisiah_ was the Bovis alternative of Earth language cussing.

There were gentle fingers on his forehead, soft sounds of the titanium being touched.

A low humming sound filled the air before he felt a firm pressure connect against the base of his scalp. Fingers danced around his head, until two more objects were pushed against the left and right of his scalp. The humming came to an abrupt halt.

Ruri’s face then reappeared over Jim, making eye contact and offering a gentle smile.

“This should take about ten minutes,” she confirmed, “Once it’s done, I’m gonna give you a visual implant inside the side of your left eye.”

Jim felt mortified as the burn of tears pooled in his eyes, both from fear and the pain his chest was radiating. The fact that his arms and legs had begun trembling involuntarily didn’t not go unnoticed to him.

Ruri, however, seemed sympathetic for him, going by the worry etched on her face.

“Don’t be nervous, James! It will do you no good. Perhaps it will make you feel better if I explained the implant?”

Jim’s eyes were begging, and somehow, he had managed to portray that desperation across as Ruri looked into his eyes and smiled.

“It will display an image of everything you’re seeing on my monitor, but it will cause blindness in the affected eye unfortunately.”

Before Jim could start choking on his hyperventilating, Ruri noticed his panic and continued:

“It will be processed and sent to our superiors, and we will see how you interact on a daily basis on your ship. When we have come to our decision, either me or Cadel will host a meeting with you to explain and will then remove the implant and restore your left eye.”

 _At least it’s not forever,_ he tried to comfort himself.

“There’s a reason why we don’t have an alliance with many people, mostly being that they retract their offer immediately after being sent away to their lives again. But I have a good feeling about you, James.”

_You kidding, psychotic woman? I’m getting this planet closed off to the Federation._

Ruri stood with her arms around her chest for a few seconds before her eyes widened in realisation:

“Oh, yes! The biology part of it. You’ll be asleep for that, don’t worry. As soon as you wake up you’re good to go, and we’ll have your anatomy detailed,” she smiled and placed her hand over Jim’s sweaty trembling one, “No panicking there.”

After a light squeeze on his hand, Ruri released his limp hand back on the armrest and returned to the computer, typing in what he presumed were commands for whatever machine was pressed against his head.

 

If Jim could have screamed, the walls would fall down.

 

His whole body arched involuntarily on the table before being released with a _slam_ , every muscle tense and on fire.

He knew he didn’t have long until he passed out with the gurgling sound his throat was making, along with the fact his vision was clouding over again.

If he tried really hard, Jim could see the overhead monitor dangling above his face light up again, images flashing up that he couldn’t see because of how distorted the world was.

The machine hooked up to his head was playing back the data captured from his memories on the screen.

 

Ten minutes passed, and he was still shaking and tensing up on the table.

“What is that?”

 

“James, what is that?”

 

He didn’t know, he couldn’t see.

 

“I must see more. James, is that Kodos? From the famed Tarsus IV?”

 

_No…_

_Please, no…_

“I must see more—”

 

Jim’s vision flashed white as excruciating pain filled his body, he couldn’t breathe, let alone move.

The agony was constant, on-going and torturous.

He had no idea how long he had been in this world of distress.

 

Seconds later, something slammed into the side of his eye, and suddenly the world shifted, like looking out of one eye, before the pain slowly began to ebb away.

Mercifully, the white void of agony faded away, and the world came back into view.

Jim was positively exhausted, his vision blurring, the whole ordeal leaving him with a pounding headache.

Ruri stepped into his sight, her hands on her hips, as if in disappointment.

“Well, James. I can _see_ why you were so worried about me seeing your memories. It looks like you have some valuable information regarding Tarsus. I’d like to see more about that, but I’ll do it during your exam later when you’re asleep.”

_Thank god…_

_Thank you…_

_At least I won’t be able to see it…at least I won’t be able to…feel it…_

“The implant is now in your eye, so your vision might look a little funny for a while, until it clears up. You’ll find you’re blind in your left eye, but like I said, we’ll take it out once we reach a decision.”

Jim blinked twice, his breath still caught in his throat, finding it hard to calm himself after the ordeal.

_Deep breath in…_

_…Hold it…_

_Breathe out…_

“You did well, James.”

_Breathe in…_

_I don’t care…let me go…I want to go…_

“I know you want out of here, so I will get Cadel to quickly do your biological exam and you’ll be free to go back to your ship.”

Ruri turned around and began fiddling with items on her tray.

Jim blinked rapidly, relishing in the hot tears trailing down his cheekbones.

 

This is weakness that he never wanted to show.

Ruri soon spun on her heel back to Jim, holding what appeared to be a hypospray. Or something remarkably similar to it.

With an innocent smile, she bent over and pressed it to Jim’s neck, whispering a quiet “Hmm…” when the medication hissed as it was released.

 

The effect was instant. His already exhausted body became desperate for rest, his vision swimming and spinning again.

Only seconds later, the world didn’t feel real anymore.

It felt so…surreal, as if he was in a dream.

Ruri was walking up and down the room, her figure flying around him as if she was leaving blurry after images. He knew his clothes were being removed when his hairs began to stand on end from the breeze.

He distantly heard echoed _clank_ sounds at the foot of his bed, black spots once again covering his vision, a veil covering him in darkness.

_In…out…in…out…_

Vaguely he felt not-quite-real motions of his ankles being raised high up, drawn apart and placed into something cold.

Breathing softly and calmly through his lips, Jim distantly felt something cold clamp around his ankles. He knew at the back of his mind the raised, drawn apart position his legs were in exposed his genitalia, but for some reason he was unable to care.

As the sounds from the outside world began to fade into a low buzz, the arm rests were pulled out flat to his sides, a tightness in his shoulders from his arm muscles stretched to their limits.

A hand landed on his face again, a familiar feeling stroking his cheekbones gently, before he finally let out a final wavering breath and succumbed to the drug.

* * *

 

If falling asleep was a gentle calm breeze, waking up was absolutely the opposite.

 

Every single limb was on _fire._

 

His fingers had felt like someone had broken them and put them back together again, his arms burning from how long they had been stretched out. His chest was aching, leading him to think they had done something to his ribs too, and not to mention his thighs had gone numb.

Opening his eyes, the first thing Jim noticed was the fact there was a ridiculously colossal energy bill on the way for this place.

There was a huge circular light dangling above him, covering half the distance of the room, as if he was some zoo exhibition on display.

 

And then he remembered…

 

They’d taken him into this room.

 

Extracted all of his memories.

 

The last thing he remembers…is being told someone was going to do a biological exam on him.

 

_Oh god._

_Oh no._

Heart in his throat, Jim shot upright, vaguely registering the fact he could now actually _move,_ noticing he was still completely naked, but his clothes had been tossed on top of the trolley.

His arms had stitches all over them, his legs even worse, small scars ridden all over his thighs and disappearing around his back.

Inhaling shakily and looking down, he noticed his genitalia was red, and that too, had small scars all over it.

Pushing the images of how that happened to the back of his mind, Jim sluggishly twisted his legs around the table, wincing from the pain of his protesting muscles.

As he gathered a few seconds to reassert himself, Jim shut his eyes momentarily and took a deep breath, wincing again as the air caused a sharp pain in his mouth.

_What the hell have they done to me?_

Deciding to move before they get back, he finally slid off the table and let his feet touch the floor, gasping and nearly doubling over when his ankles protested taking the weight of his body.

_Gotta move now. Just get out of here, Jim._

His feet barely leaving the floor, Jim shuffled his way over to the abandoned clothes on the trolley, slowly picking them up and trying to think of the best way to dress himself without pain.

 

A few winces and hisses later, Jim was now fully clothed again, a relief that took the edge off of everything.

_Get to the ship…get to the bloody ship…_

Jim slid his hand into his pocket, fumbling for the communicator and pulling it out.

Ruri and Cadel were smart to have kept his arms on the armrests or he easily would have managed to call for beam out at the first sign of trouble.

 

Speaking of…

 

“Hey! James! What are you doing? You shouldn’t be awake yet!” Ruri had overalls wrapped around her neck with blood stains all over it.

Jim nearly vomited at the sight of her, almost dropping his communicator as he frantically flipped open the device.

“James! Sit down, now!” Ruri stormed towards him, hypospray in hand.

Cadel came in afterwards, looking around agitatedly for the source of trouble and darting over to Jim.

“Enterprise! Emergency beam out! Now!” he shouted into the communicator backing against the wall of the room.

The room itself was very small, there was nowhere he could run.

Cadel stepped in front of him, and just then Jim realised he was standing in front of the computer monitor, each filled with at least thirty images of his body parts in different positions and covered in blood. At the corner of the screen he saw an image of his legs hoisted in the air and drawn apart, a tube lodged into his…

Jim turned away and threw up on the table, his legs giving out sending him crashing to the floor.

Just then, his communicator beeped, followed by the blessed voice of a scotsman, “Cap’n! There’s some interference wherever you are, but I’ve got through! Did you say beam up?”

A pair of hands grabbed his arms, causing him to drop the communicator as he was straddled onto the table.

“Beam me up! Fucking beam me up! Now, Scotty, please!” he practically screamed as he tried to fight off the offending hands that were grabbing and trying to control him.

As a flurry of light began to surface, Jim hurdled himself across the other side of the table, sending him landing with a _BANG_ as his ankle smashed into the table while he flew, before everything he saw became white and hazy.

When the decoration of the Enterprise transporter room came into view, Jim nearly cried, swallowing another ball of bile and looking at the redshirted transporter chief as if he was his pride and glory.

As members of staff became pouring in, likely from hearing Jim’s desperate screaming over the communicator, his mind began to kick itself back into its default gear again.

“Thanks, Mister Scott,” he said with as much strength as he could muster, nodding towards the concerned looking man.

In all fairness he did probably look like shit.

He glanced over to the crowd of crewmembers who had entered the room, and smiled, “Back to work guys, just some really strong alien dudes back there,” he jested, his legs screaming at him to stop pacing around.

Sliding past his crew members and out the door, he thought he had escaped the crowd before he turned a corner and he nearly crashed into a running blue-shirted man.

His hazy mind took a moment to adjust and realise the man shouting at him was Bones.

He decided to tune in.

“…dammit! Your med sensor went offline, we’d been trying to comm you but your reckless backside just ignored me!”

Jim sighed, “Not now, Bones—” he nearly groaned at speaking did something to his mouth again. It was hurting somewhere, he couldn’t pinpoint where.

“Good god man. You look like crap, what happened to your clothes? Did you go dumpster diving?”

Jim shook his head in dismissal, continuing the walk to his quarters, Bones of course following close behind.

“Don’t you shake your head at me, I told you that I should’ve gone down there, and look what happened!”

He walked on for five more seconds before Bones grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn round; Jim bit his cheek to hold back a yelp.

“You can’t go in there looking like that. Pike’s in there, he’s a damn admiral, you show up looking like that he’ll think you’re takin’ the piss!”

Pursing his lips, Jim ignored him once again and turned back around, storming up to his quarters in silence and pressing the access code.

Before he pressed the final key, he slowly maneuverered himself to face Bones behind him.

The man looked like he could kill.

 

“Bones…I want to be alone, please. I need to talk to Pike about what happened down there and it’s confidential. He’s my friend and mentor, not just an admiral, he’ll understand why I look like…” he gestured to himself, “…this.”

 

_I’m not telling Pike anything._

_Just get out of my way._

Bones seemed to consider this for a second, before grumbling something under his breath and folding his arms over his chest.

“You’re damn lucky I was in too much of a damn rush to bring my medkit,” Bones growled, then offered a snarky half-smile, “But you’re coming straight down to medbay after your talk with Pike, alright?”

Jim rolled his eyes, “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

_Go away._

Bones gave him a warning glare, before shaking his head and turning back around.

 

Quickly, Jim tapped in the rest of the key code and slipped into his quarters, waiting for the door to finally slide shut before collapsing on his hands and knees.

 

 

_TBC..._

* * *

 

 **Did you enjoy this piece of textual work? Do you desire it's continuation? It is only logical therefore to leave a kudos or comment.**  (please)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pike and Bones find out something is wrong with Jim, but struggle to get him to talk about what.

_Bones growled, then offered a snarky half-smile, “You’re coming straight down to medbay after your talk with Pike, alright?”_

_Jim rolled his eyes, “Yeah, sure, whatever.”_

_Bones gave him a warning glare, before shaking his head and turning back around._

_Quickly, Jim tapped in the rest of the key code and slipped into his quarters, waiting for the door to finally slide shut before collapsing on his hands and knees._

* * *

 

 

Pain.

 

He had to get rid of it.

 

It was the pane of his existence.

 

But every time he took in another forceful rapid breath, it would exaggerate the pain again, make itself known.

So, he had to slow down so it would hurt less frequently.

But he couldn’t.

 

Jim took in another wheezing breath and squeezed his eyes shut, moaning as the tension simply made the pain worse.

He was shaking; he knew it.

Still on his hands and knees, he could see a blurry image of his hands, they felt achy and weak, sheens of sweat covering his clammy palms. His knees felt like they could just collapse.

He let out a cry of distress and slapped his hands to the sides of his head, causing his body to become unbalanced and fall forwards, leaving him shaking and gasping like a fish washed onto shore.

 

Jim knew what this was. It was a panic attack.

It had happened once before at the academy. _Once._

But he had managed to hide himself away in his room and skip out on a lecture, so no-one could see him weak.

He was James Tiberius Kirk, over 400 crewmembers looked up to him as a role model, as something to strive for.

They were never going to see him like this.

 

“Kirk?” a voice clipped through the loud wheezing noises he was making.

Jim nearly jumped out of his skin; he thought he was on his own. What was someone doing in his room?

He blinked rapidly to force some tears to fall, clearing up his vision, but alas there was no-one there.

Mind you, he _was_ lying on his side and facing only one direction.

Regardless, he brought his hands up to his face to wipe away any evidence that he had been crying.

_I was yawning. That was it. I haven’t slept in a while._

_Being drugged by someone who cuts open every inch of your body doesn’t count._

 

“Kirk—” the voice stopped mid-sentence and grew softer, “What the…”

Moments later, Jim saw a shadow loom over him before the presence of legs appeared into his vision.

The figure knelt down beside him.

“What the hell’s happened, son?”

 

_Shit._

_It’s Pike._

_No no no no he can’t see me like this…_

 

‘Get out’, he tried to say, but instead his throat constricted, and he wheezed pathetically as his panic grew stronger.

The shadow moved.

Something grasped his left shoulder; a hand probably, but he couldn’t see it. Only feel it.

 _‘The implant will make you lose vision in your left eye,”_ Ruri had said to him earlier.

Or was that yesterday? He couldn’t remember. How long had he been down there?

The hand’s purpose suddenly was realised when Jim was pushed with ease onto his back, the face of his mentor finally coming into view, as did the ceiling. Along with the feeling of embarrassment, considering he was now lying on his back wheezing like a dehydrated dog.

“What happened, Jim? Did the ambassadors do something to you? Well, of course they did, just look at you, what did they do?”

Jim winced inwardly as the constant talking ignited the pain in his eye again, only able to lift a rigid shaky hand and croaking ‘ _stop’,_ without any reason for the word.

Pike’s face was laced with concern; something that Jim rarely had the honour to see for himself.

“I’m not going to just stop talking and leave you here, Kirk. Who did this to you?”

Grasping his gold shirt, Jim tried to ground himself, his mind still reeling through the whole ordeal as it hit him.

Those bastards were probably watching him right now, through that implant that they put in his brain.

“Jim?” Pike was still waiting for a response.

Licking his dry lips, he took in another deep breath, determined to calm himself before speaking. There was no way he was speaking to an admiral as a sobbing, gasping mess.

“Okay…” he exhaled, still waiting for the shuddering to subside, “Was them…”

Pike pursed his lips together and frowned, “So, they did hurt you. Okay, we’re getting somewhere now,” he offered a sarcastic smirk while Jim shook his head.

“Agh…” Jim sighed in exasperation, refusing to make eye-contact, “I don’t know what that was, sir, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. But I need to know more about this. I’m guessing they’re off the radar now?”

Jim snorted, “I wouldn’t pit my worst enemy against them. They act so damn…happy and chivalrous as if what they’re doing is completely normal,” then he paused, remembering what Ruri had said, “In fact they said it _was_ normal. They do it all the time.”

“Uh-huh,” Pike nodded, shifting his weight onto his side to get into a more comfortable position, “And what did they actually _do?”_

Jim fidgeted uncomfortably on his back, his now relaxing fingers splayed out over the hem of his yellow shirt. This _wasn’t_ something he wanted to talk about.

“I uh…”

_I don’t want sympathy._

“Let’s just say they took a couple of bites out my skin and manipulated me with the Federation a bit.”

_Well, no, I manipulated myself with the Federation._

_I manipulated myself using you as an excuse to let them do it._

Regardless, Pike merely sighed in what seemed like frustration and continued to push him on.

“Come on, son, what else did they do?”

Jim shrugged, “I’m serious, they nicked my skin a couple of times.”

He lifted the cuff of his sleeve to expose his wrist.

Small red scars and cuts were visible all over his skin, but there were not half as many incisions as he had found over the rest of his body. Hence why this was his choice of showing.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he lied.

Pike leaned over to Jim’s wrist but pulled himself back instantly, obviously trying to resist the urge to get touchy.

He nodded to the arm as Jim pulled it towards his chest, “And what did your doctor say about this?”

 

Jim was sure his heart skipped a beat at that.

 

“He doesn’t…” Kirk sighed and screw his eyes shut, “He doesn’t know, I came straight here.”

Pike glared him down, “You got injured and came here instead of the medbay? What kinda planet were you on?”

Jim smirked warily, “Not a very good one,” he jested.

The Federation were definitely going to retract their offer. If they didn’t…they were insane.

“Well, you need to go see someone, son, these scars don’t look too good.”

Jim scoffed, glancing down at his arms and tucking them between his knees, wincing as his pelvis twinged at the movement.

“Don’t even know how I got that many scars,” Jim curled his fingers into a fist, his figure now looking tightened into a ball, “They managed to scar it over a couple of hours. Pretty amazing technology over there, saw it for myself.”

Something on Pike’s face told Jim that he had just said something wrong.

Surely the idea of their new-found enemy having ‘superior technology’ wasn’t offensive?

“…Not in a good way, though,” he quickly corrected himself, “They don’t use it civilly, maybe if we had equipment like that—”

Pike interrupted him, “How long were you down there, Kirk?”

Jim paused and snapped his mouth shut.

He hadn’t actually taken the time to think about it…

“Well, they were talking to me for about ten minutes, used…something on me for another twenty,” he didn’t want to risk causing alarm for admitting someone had messed with his brain, “…had me unconscious for a couple of hours, say four, and then I was trying to get out for another five, so…about five hours.”

Pike’s eyes darkened, and Jim felt his stomach drop.

He shook his head, “No…”

Pike spoke softly, “You were gone for two days.”

_…No._

_How can it be two days?_

_…They were doing tests on me for two days?_

_…No wonder I have so many scars…_

 

“I…”

Jim swallowed hard as his throat began to tighten again.

_God, no, not again._

_Not now._

_Not in front of Pike._

“I don’t…don’t think…I…”

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry._

_Stop being a moron._

_Think about what Bones would say…stop being an infant._

_This is an admiral._

_…No, don’t think about Bones._

_Bones is in a medbay._

_Bones is a doctor._

_It looks the same as the chamber on the planet._

Spontaneously, Jim unlocked his hands and feet from his curled-up position and surged over his knees, vomiting over his red carpet floor and leaving him gasping for breath again…in front of Pike.

_No. No. No._

“Pike…”

_No, don’t call him Pike…_

“Sir…I’m-I’m-I’m-I’m—” his wheezing was interrupted by the older man grasping his shoulder and hauling him onto the floor.

For an older man, older than Bones, he sure had a lot of strength.

…Or perhaps Jim was just weak.

As Jim was rolled from his back onto his side, he brought his knees up to his chest and resumed shaking like he had done minutes before, trying desperately to internally calm himself and stop this ridiculous uncontrollable panicking.

“Breathe, Jim. Take your time,” the authoritive tone taken on him was like that of a Captain instructing his crew.

A firm hand that he recognised as Pike’s kept him grounded, while he lay on his side sucking in air and trembling over nothing.

“So…so…so…so…path-path-pathetic…” he groaned, lips trembling as if the room was the Antarctic.

He saw Pike smile weakly in front of him, “It’s alright, son, we’ll get through this.”

Jim couldn’t even force himself to return the smile.

He was going to have to try to hide this somehow. Stepping foot in the medbay was completely out of the question, he might as well go back down to Bovis and be experimented on again.

Pike lay a hand on his shoulder, “You need to go and see that doctor of yours, alright?”

Jim instantly shook his head.

He was staying in this room. Right here. With or without Pike.

“I’m guh-gonna… take a sh-sh-shower,” he decided firmly, his voice still trembling somehow.

He definitely wasn’t anxious, no. He was cold. Yes. The air conditioning was malfunctioning.

As he rolled himself onto his front, a hand pressed against his back.

“You sure that’s wise?”

Huh.

Jim scoffed.

“’Course it’s _wise,_ I just wanna warm up, y’know, get refreshed, that sorta thing,” he protested, pushing himself from his knees to his feet and half-stumbling over to en-suite door.

Pike didn’t relent, “Jim, I think you should go see a doctor first,” he suggested, following him up to the door, “What about your physician? McCoy, wasn’t it?”

Jim’s face flushed red as panic coursed through his barely contained veins, “I-I-I I don’t—” he paused, knowing his stuttering was only proving the admiral’s point…

…Took a breath, then continued, “I don’t need a doctor,” he exhaled firmly, “I need a shower.”

Pike stared at him for a second, that look that just said _you’re bullshitting me on this, aren’t you?_

But the man let out an exasperated sigh and gestured towards the door.

“Go on, but don’t be long. Or I’ll walk you to medical myself.”

Jim assumed this was probably some kind of test, but he never backed down from a challenge.

“Yeah, whatever, admiral,” he smirked, knowing he was probably the only man who was able to wave off an admiral and get away with it.

Heading into the bathroom, the door slid shut behind him and the water automatically turned on, flowing warm water onto the tiled floor.

Stripping his clothes off, Jim winced multiple times as clothing that had stuck to blood pulled on his skin.

He managed to step into the shower without slipping on the warm wet floor, allowing the water to cascade down his cold scar-ridden body.

The time alone for the first time since he had woken up on the experimentation table allowed him to look over his body in detail for once, to see the damage the Bovis people had inflicted on him.

They had definitely done something to his chest, he knew that, or found something of interest to them. Small inch scars were littered over his torso, looking like spaced out tally lines judging by how many there were.

His arms didn’t have anywhere near as many cuts on them, which was why it was an easy choice to pull up his sleeves to Pike instead of lifting his shirt.

Glancing at the lower region of his body, there were fairly large incisions that ranged right from the top to the bottom of both his thighs, probably to expose the large muscle. There was another extended cut under his knee caps, but there was nothing on his ankles or toes, probably not able to get that far as Jim woke up too early.

His genitalia though…didn’t seem to have improved from when he first woke up. It was still swollen red, and from looking closer, there was an incision from top to bottom of the organ, the area surrounding it littered with scars.

It was possible they had managed to get their hands on a human female, and of course had not expected to see _that_ when they were studying him.

Or perhaps the information they _did_ research was based off of a female anyway, which would explain the increase of cuts over his chest, considering he didn’t have breasts.

He frowned.

How was he going to hide this?

He would have to wear long sleeves and trousers for the rest of his remaining time on the Enterprise. The cuts were in too high in quantity, it would be easily spotted otherwise.

What about the physicals Bones forces him to go to? There’s no way on earth he’d be able to put off the exams for another five years when one was due every month.

Still…perhaps he could cover them with makeup, especially for McCoy. It could work, he could ask a favour of Uhura, make an excuse as to why he was borrowing her makeup…

Shrugging it off and sighing, he wriggled his toes as the water dripped off of them, fidgeting a bit when his head began to feel swimmy again.

Perhaps he should take it slow when it comes to standing for a while.

* * *

 

 

Pike lounged on the ‘specially assigned golden captain’s sofa’.

At least that was what Jim called it to make it sound magnificent, when in reality…it was a yellow sofa. A luxury only a Captain could have.

The water had been running for ten minutes now, a hell of a long time to take a shower. Jim obviously didn’t take Pike seriously when he said _be quick._

He half considered turning the water off to save excess consumption, but then again, he assumed Jim probably earnt it. He had been through a lot, he could tell simply by the charade he pulled off when he waltzed half-limping into the room.

When another five minutes had passed however, Pike began to grow concerned.

Now it was just getting ridiculous.

 

He pushed himself up from the sofa and knocked on the door;

“Jim? You’ve been showering for fifteen minutes, that’s ten minutes more than the recommended amount of time.”

Water was a luxury on the ship, it had to be saved whenever possible, due to having a limited supply.

No reply.

“Jim? I’m gonna turn the water off if you don’t answer me,” as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt like a right idiot when he looked at the control panel next to the door and realised there _wasn’t_ an on-off button for the water.

It was a precaution for overly-self-righteous crew members.

 _Not_ a Captain.

He sighed, “You might be injured, son, but you’re a Captain, ignoring an admiral’s demands is a pretty serious defence.”

The sound of water continued.

Still no reply.

“Kirk! That’s an order! Turn the damn water off!”

Twenty minutes of continuous consecutive valuable water wasted. A sense of foreboding washed over him.

“Jim!”

Growling, he banged his fist on the bathroom door and shouted, “Damn it, Kirk! Don’t make me call your engineer to cut off your water supply!”

When there was still no reply, Pike felt the hole in his stomach grow larger, a pit of worry sending him striding quickly to the wall comm.

 

He hit the button and stumbled out the words carefully, “Admiral Pike to MedBay.”

Instantly, a gruff reply.

Thank god, it was Jim’s physician.

“McCoy here.”

He cleared his throat, but spoke with haste, “McCoy, I’m concerned about Kirk. He’s been in the shower room for twenty-five minutes and is not answering me. Hell, I’ve threatened to turn the water off and court-martial him, and nothing.”

In the background, the sound of water continued to run.

“Damn it. I’m coming down. I assume you’re still in his quarters like we arranged?”

McCoy had agreed with Pike to keep the admiral in there for when Jim arrived back, knowing he would shut himself in there instead of coming to the medbay. Clearly it worked, but there wasn’t much explanation like they’d hoped.

“Yeah. He hardly told me anything, but he does appear to be scarred on the wrists.”

McCoy’s reply was hissed back, “And you didn’t think to send him to me?”

As the sound of water continued to rush behind him, he nearly shouted back in frustrated worry, “I _tried_ to get him to talk! And don’t speak to me like that again, McCoy, but I’ll let you off considering the situation,” then added quickly, “Now get the hell down here!”

He rapidly turned his head towards the door, obviously it was still shut with the sound of water bleeding through it, but his anxiety continued to grow.

“Have you actually gone in there and checked if he’s alright?” came a gruff reply from the comm.

Scowling, Pike turned back and spoke into the device, “He’s in the bathroom naked! Of course not!”

Half-way through some unintelligible grumbling from the other side of the con, an alarm sounded from inside the bathroom, followed by a female computer voice.

_“Warning. Thirty-five minutes elapsed since water usage began. Water shortage inevitable.”_

Cursing under his breath, he turned back towards the con, “What’d you want me to do?”

He heard more mumbling from the other man, before something comprehensible was picked up, “I’m gonna transfer this transmission to my communicator,” came the calm and controlled voice, “Just get in the damned room and make sure he’s alright.”

Pike shook his head and leaned against the wall.

He was an _admiral_ for crying out loud, he can’t go barging into bathrooms of Captains, the board would probably sack him.

“Sir, Jim’s life could be in the balance here because of a little ego,” he heard Jim’s physician through the comms, “I won’t tell a soul that you went in there, as long as you don’t tell anyone I told you the CMO override is 195964. Now _go, dammit!”_

Grunting under his breath, Pike stormed over to the bathroom door and entered the emergency override. Only the Captain and CMO usually had access, but the override under McCoy’s ID let him in too.

As the door slid open, a deluge of steam throttled out of the doors and into the main quarters, sending Pike into a coughing fit.

“Pike? Is he alright?”

When the mist cleared, the saw two things.

Firstly, the shower head was still throttling out water despite no-one being under it.

Secondly, Jim was lying stark on his back, on the floor, drenched with water, hair completely matted, and didn’t seem to be moving.

Without further hesitation, Pike quickly stepped into action, slamming a fist onto the power for the shower to turn the dwindling water supply off, before kneeling to Jim’s side.

The blonde had cuts and scars covering every inch of his body, large incisions across muscle that looked like it would hurt to move. Some scars looked redder than others, there was even some swelling in the legs and…well…

“Pike! Damn it, is he _alright_?”

“Uh,” he hesitated, unsure of how to describe Jim’s condition to him, “He’s not looking good, you better get down here fast.”

A curse.

“Is he awake?”

Pike shook his head despite no-one being there, “No, but he’s breathing, just unconscious by the looks of it.”

Another pause.

“I’m almost there, don’t move him; he might have hurt his back. Is there any blood?”

Pike let out a small huff of distress, quiet enough for no-one else to hear, before leaning across Jim and trying to decide whether he was bleeding anywhere.

It was hard to tell; the water had been running for so long it could easily have been washed away.

“Don’t think so; could have been washed away.”

He carefully reached a hand towards Jim’s forehead and brushed the wet hair from his face. It must be uncomfortable…even if he wasn’t awake.

Seconds later, the door hissed upon; a tell-tale sign of the doctor arriving, so he quickly moved to the side to allow him through.

Sure enough, heavy rapid footsteps sounded beside him, a shadowing looming over both he and Jim before the man dropped to his knees beside them, without acknowledging Pike.

The medkit was snapped open and tossed to one side, then McCoy grabbed something from his pocket and immediately leaned over Jim.

Pike shuffled out the way as he got to work.

McCoy rest a gentle hand on Kirk’s face; much gentler than Pike knew him for, before running his palm to the kid’s forehead and grumbling.

“Jim? Can you hear me, kid?”

No response.

The hand moved to Jim’s eyelids, pulling them back with a thumb, the other hand producing a penlight that was swiftly shone into both eyes. McCoy rapidly examined them both before he let them shut, pocketing the device away again.

“Pupils are reactive, but these cuts look bad,” McCoy observed, reaching for his medkit and switching out the penlight for a hypo, “Get me a towel or a blanket, or something.”

Pike nodded, scrambling to his feet in search for anything that would give Jim at least a shred of dignity.

* * *

 

Two hypos of adrenaline had gone into Jim’s bloodstream; he should be awake by now.

McCoy frowned, grasping Jim’s wrist with one hand and feeling for his pulse; which was exactly the same as it was since the last ten seconds ago.

Pike returned by his side and draped a towel over Jim’s abdomen, which McCoy quickly helped him with, keeping a mental note of the swelling _down there._

A small voice mumbled something from below him.

“…M’ smmm w’nna g’shower…”

McCoy quickly took the med scanner and hovered it over Jim, reading back the results that fed back to him.

His brainwaves were all over the place, signalling he was drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness.

He pocketed the scanner and clasped both hands over Jim’s face.

“Jim? C’mon, stay with me, kid.”

Pike seemed to be observing the situation standing in front of the door.

“Bones…”

“Yeah, that’s it. S’alright, you’re doin’ just fine,” McCoy lied, rubbing his knuckles over Jim’s arm to keep him grounded.

Jim’s blue eyes fluttered open, looking hazy and drugged despite being shot with nothing but adrenaline.

“Cold…” Jim murmured, his hands struggling to reach his chest as if to wrap himself up in his own arms.

“I know. Pike, get me another towel and call for a hoverbed,” he ordered to the man standing behind him, “Didn’t think I’d need one but this damn idiot is worse than I thought.”

As the admiral left the bathroom without word, McCoy glanced back over to Jim and watched his face for any signs of discomfort.

Jim didn’t look to be in pain; his face was relaxed, only his eyes seemed to be darting around as if trying to make sense of the situation.

The sheer number of cuts on the younger man’s body made his stomach twist with both concern and anger.

Why would someone so heavily injured and susceptible to infection run off to their quarters instead of immediately getting checked out?

 

He sighed worryingly.

 

Because it’s Jim Kirk, that’s why.

 

“M’cold…” Jim repeated, his eyes fixated on McCoy’s as if begging for warmth.

McCoy felt his stomach do a flip, “I know, I’m gonna get you warmed up soon, I promise.”

Lying naked on a freezing cold floor surrounded by puddles of water was sure to make a man uncomfortable.

“Here,” Pike returned out of nowhere with another towel, “I’ve called medical and they’re dispatching someone down with a hoverbed.”

McCoy nodded his thanks and grabbed the towel off of him, brushing it over Jim’s chest, trying to soak up the cold water.

“Get me the medical scanner,” he ordered, not taking his eyes away from Jim as if wiping someone’s body down with a towel was a surgical job.

The device was soon slipped into his hand, and so he hovered it over Jim’s body again.

“There’s only so much we can do ‘til help arrives. If he’s slipped and hurt his back I can’t risk moving him,”

Pike hummed in acknowledgement.

“I’ll wait outside his quarters for them.”

McCoy agreed, “Yeah, go on.”

As Pike left the bathroom, McCoy glared at his scanner as it gave him results he didn’t want to see.

“Temperature 34 degrees Celsius,” he spoke out loud to himself, “It was just a shower, damn it, you weren’t in the damn ocean.”

Jim fidgeted from underneath him, obviously growing more lucid and uncomfortable on the tiled floor.

His expression lightened, “Try to stay still, Jim, we don’t know what damage you’ve done ‘til you get a spinal scan.”

The younger man’s eyes drifted to McCoy’s medscanner, then very slowly he lifted an arm inches from the ground and attempted a feeble point at the device.

“X-Ray?”

Sighing, he pocked the scanner once more and scrunched the towel in his hands into a ball.

“Yeah, I can use it to see broken ribs, dislocated ankles and such, but I need proper equipment to look for spinal cord damage. So, you need to stay still.” He spoke as if speaking to his daughter.

He might as well be, Jim looked half out of it, his eyes drifting once again elsewhere.

After a few moments of silence, tired eyes floated back to McCoy’s hands and stared at the towel.

“Give it to me,” he demanded, desperation in his eyes.

McCoy scowled, but plonked the scrunched-up towel onto the younger man’s chest.

If anything, it was a good test to watch for ability of movement. His face was intense, concentrating hard on trying to grasp at the towel, his hands weak and shaking but attempting to move them none-the-less.

It took another thirty seconds for Jim to grasp the end of the towel and stretch it out from its scrunched form to being pulled flat over his chest.

In the end he seemed quite satisfied with himself, even glancing up at McCoy as if waiting for praise.

Instead he asked, “Are you moving slow because you’re hurting, or because your body won’t move the way you want it to?”

Jim’s face dropped in disappointment, clearly hoping for a compliment on his hard work aka pulling a towel over his body and mumbled out a quiet “Don’t know.”

McCoy shuffled closer, grimacing as his now wet clothes touched his skin with the movement, “Well, you must know. Does it hurt when you move?”

It wasn’t a hard damn question.

And he wasn’t used to having patience with his patients.

“Jim, answer me. I need to know. Are you hurting?”

He couldn’t tell without having the biobed pain indicator monitors in front of him.

“Where’s the damn hoverbed…” he mumbled under his breath, glaring at Jim when he continued to remain silent.

He whipped out his PADD and watched for any messages explaining the delay.

Late arrival of _medical equipment_ was something that was not acceptable, especially not in McCoy’s book.

There was of course nothing there, just a notification indicating him of the recording of the transmission he and Pike recently had.

 

Glancing back up at Jim, his heart nearly stopped when he saw how pale he suddenly was.

 

Immediately, he tossed the PADD aside in favour for his medscanner, hovering it over the silent figure while asking, “Jim? You still with me?”

The device bleeped rapidly at him, alerting him of the sudden increase in heart rate.

Jim’s hands were becoming clammy and sweaty very rapidly, along with his chest increasingly expanding faster.

With his free hand, he leaned over the blonde and pulled an eyelid back with his thumb.

“Pupils enlarged. God damn it. Why the hell…”

He scoffed in disbelief under his breath and turned his head to the door and nearly screamed; “ _ADMIRAL!”_

He scooted closer to Jim and run a hand through his hair, “S’alright, buddy, it’s alright…”

“McCoy?”

Pike appeared by the bathroom door, thankfully hearing him from standing outside Jim’s quarters.

McCoy turned to face him again, a hand still running through the kid’s hair.

“He’s going into shock. Run down the damn corridor and push them here if you have to, find out what the hell is happening!”

Pike nodded, taking a few seconds to glance at Jim but somehow managed to not make any obvious reaction in his expression, then darted out the door again.

Wordlessly, McCoy rest a hand on Jim’s forehead, grimacing at the heat radiating off of his skin.

At the touch, Jim moaned pitifully under his breath, his lips beginning to tinge blue.

 

_How the damn hell did this happen so quickly?_

 

“…Y’didn’t pick anything up…?”

McCoy’s head shot down to face the tired blue eyes of the pale kid that was somehow clinging onto consciousness, then immediately to the medical scanner which wasn't detecting anything abnormal at all apart from warnings of shock.

 

“Pick _what_ up? What?” but the blonde’s expression just fell slack as he succumbed into unconsciousness, “Jim! Pick up _what?_ Jim!”

 

* * *

 

_**Did you enjoy this piece of textual work? Do you desire it's continuation? It is only logical therefore to leave a kudos or comment.**  (please)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No-one can get Jim to talk; in fact he won't even open his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is more fast-paced.  
> Thank you for all the comments my dudes !

_Jim moaned pitifully under his breath, his lips beginning to tinge blue._

_“…Y’didn’t pick anything up…?”_

_McCoy’s head shot down to face the pale kid that was somehow clinging onto consciousness._

_“Pick what up? What?” but the blonde’s expression just fell slack as he succumbed into unconsciousness, “Jim! Pick up what? Jim!”_

_………………._

 

“He’s in shock, pulse 150, BP 100 over 60.”

“His body is littered with scars; what the hell happened down there?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. He’s tight-lipped about it. He asked about my scanner picking something up, but he passed out.”

“Think it’s got something to do with it?”

“I’m betting my life on it. Scanner picked up nothing, so we’ll have to try something else.”

“Could have been hallucinated, what with his mental state and all.”

“I don’t know, M’Benga, he seemed pretty damn serious about it.”

 

McCoy waited until the hoverbed turned the corner into sickbay before ordering his demands;

“Get me a full body scan, a head CT and a blood draw. Keep him on oxygen and find out if any of the scars have been infected. They’re still pretty new and he didn’t go into shock for the hell of it.”

A blonde nurse appeared from his side and glanced up at the monitors seconds before McCoy did.

“His pulse is still rapid, we should shock him before we do anything else.”

McCoy frowned for a few seconds but nodded his agreement. “Do it.”

Jim’s body had its chance to try and correct itself, and now McCoy had to fix it for him. _Again._

* * *

 

 

_Gaaasp!_

A screeching racket that sounded like alarms hammered his ear canals.

Jim’s eyes shot open the millisecond he returned to consciousness, his brain firing a million signals for danger.

Everywhere he looked was confined by spherical white walls, the enclosed structure nose-to-nose with him, while the constant screeching whirring and beeping resounded in his ears.

His heart was thrumming away in his chest, panic reaching his throat before he could even figure out what was happening.

_What the hell is happening what the hell is happening what the fuck what the fuck where the hell am I they’ve got me they’ve got me they’ve got me—_

A familiar static voice broke through the surrounding noise;

“Jim? It’s alright, you’re just gettin’ a scan,” the southern voice failed to reassure him, his breaths still coming in rapid gasps. “You’re on the Enterprise, you’re safe.”

The voice derived from above him, so apparently there were speakers somewhere, regardless of the fact there was just solid white metal staring him in the face.

 _All_ he could see was metal.

His fight-or-flight responses were on fire, but he couldn’t _move._

“I need you to calm down for me, Jim, you’re hyperventilating. Try n’ breathe real slow for me.”

God knows what the man was expecting of him, but Jim couldn’t stop himself from his rapid wheezing at this point. His body had taken over from his mind and it wasn’t listening to him.

Among the constant screeching of whatever machine he was inside of, a new, more distant siren started blaring from somewhere he couldn’t put his finger on.

He wanted _out._

_Out out out out out out out—_

**_Clunk._ **

As if by magic, the solid piece of metal he was lying on vibrated while the enclosed space started moving backwards, until finally the structure was out of sight, and a much larger room came into view.

He still couldn’t move though, and his spiral into panic wasn’t alleviated at all by his newfound freedom, in fact he was sure the world was spinning even more.

It was just then that he realised he was no longer in his Captain’s yellows. Despite the fact he couldn’t move his head, he recognised the thin flimsy material of sickbay’s gowns any day.

As he loudly wheezed in another breath, he noticed several people were standing around him, along with Bones, the man that had been trying and failing to get him to calm down.

Bones jumped to his side the second he was out of the machine, hands flying over him in places Jim couldn’t pinpoint due to his blurring vision.

Whatever he was doing was clearly helping though, as his limbs suddenly began to feel lighter and was able to move them.

Bones’ face soon drifted into view above him.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, “I’ve taken the restraints off, you’re fine. Just breathe, Jim, it’s alright.”

Restraints? So, _that’s_ why he couldn’t move his limbs…

The confusion in his face must have been obvious as Bones continued;

“Yeah, I didn’t know how you were going to wake up,” then he paused, his eyes drifting away as his mind wandered in thought, “Christine, did those scans come through?”

Jim blinked up at him, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach telling him he’d had to go through the whole ordeal again awake.

“Yep, we have six images but the third one is a little blurred.”

Bones nodded towards her and looked back down at Jim with a faint comforting smile, “I’ll be right back.”

Jim only glanced away, waiting for Bones to leave before he attempted to take stock of himself; a little easier now that his breathing was slowly easing back into normality.

The last thing he remembered before waking up here was showering in his quarters. Pike had yelled at him for staying in the shower for too long and wasting water, but he was too lightheaded to form a reply that would be heard over the sound of rushing water. Then it just went black.

And he woke up here.

 

“Jim?”

His head automatically turned at the voice, finding Bones striding back over to him, PADD clutched in hand.

Bones took his attention as acknowledgement and turned his PADD around, so the blonde could see.

“Scans came back completely clear.”

Jim squinted at the screen, deciding to continue remaining quiet and looked away to his hands.

He heard an exasperated sigh from his doctor beside him.

“Jim, you got me worryin’ about something before you passed out; about picking something up on my scanners. What were you talkin’ about?”

Jim’s eyes didn’t move away from his hands. Where was Pike? Was he still angry?

“Use your words, Jim. Talk to me.”

Was he gonna be banned from using water? Was that even allowed?

Would he tell the other admirals?

“Jim, for the love of god I’m gonna cook up a truth serum in a minute. Tell. Me. What. You Meant.”

_It’ll be fine if I’m restricted from water for a while. I’m…used to it. I’m used to it._

“For the love of … oh. Ah. Well, something’s got you stressed out, huh? Your heart’s beginning to get itself another work out.”

_Would Pike really do that to me? He already knows what happened before, would he risk bringing that back to me? Maybe he would defend my case…_

“Welp, I’m gonna stand here all day, Jim. That metal slate looks pretty uncomfortable though, it’s unfortunate that you’ll be staying there until you tell me.”

_Stop. Stop, I’m not gonna tell you shit, Bones. Go away._

_You don’t need to know. If you knew… I let down Pike._

Jim peeked up at the sound of a stool being dragged across the room, not realising Bones had swiftly left to grab a chair; plonking it next to him and glaring at him intimidatingly.

“So?”

It took every ounce of Jim’s being not to scoff as he turned away, resuming his exhilarating hand-watching activity.

The sight of his fingers sprawled out on the blanket below was magnificent, electrifying even, nothing in the world could distract him from watching his—

“I’m going to shoot you with stimulants until you give me an answer.”

_He’s bluffing._

Speaking of sight; the vision in his left eye still hadn’t come back yet.

What was it Ruri said? They were going to keep that implant in his head until he came back to hear their decision?

Well, that wasn’t very practical. What’s he supposed to do in the meantime?

He can’t just sit and listen to Bones moan all the— ** _pshhht_** _!_

Jim flinched wildly, thrashing at the stinging that unexpectedly made itself known to his neck, before locking eyes with Bones.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t see that coming, you heard what I said,” then a pause… “You _can_ hear me, right?”

Deciding that he didn’t want to endure some unnecessary hearing tests, he glanced up at his unrelenting, irritating, merciless doctor and nodded briefly, before staring down at his hands again.

Bones was an asshole.

“So, you’re choosing to ignore me on purpose, huh?”

Maybe if he didn’t have an implant shoved into his head, he’d be paying more attention to Bones right now.

The fact his vision was impaired was the only reason why he didn’t see the damn hypo coming.

“Well, that’s just fine. That’s real good, Jim, ignoring your chief medical officer, especially since you’re a captain and all.”

_You’re not winning this fight, Bones._

_If this even is a fight. I just don’t want to talk to you. Or anyone for that matter._

“I’ll just have to make a medical log on your profile.”

_This is so ridiculous…_

“Don’t make me do this, Jim.”

_It’s either this, or Bones unleashes examination hell onto me for having something implanted in my head. Not to mention my vision’s impaired. I’d have a medical log anyway._

“Alright, suit yourself, you idiot.”

Grinding noises met his ears as the stool behind him was dragged away, Bones undoubtedly _really_ planning to write a report on him.

“Get him on a biobed in sickbay,” Bones shouted as he left.

He really wanted some water.

* * *

 

“God damn idiot,” McCoy grumbled to himself, hitting open the doors to the main area of sickbay with his elbows and striding into the quiet room, “Only gives a damn about himself and no-one else.”

Stomping straight over to his office, he ignored the staff that attempted to greet him and let the door slide shut without a word.

“If he _did_ give a damn about himself he’d let a damn _doctor_ help.”

With an exasperated sigh, he slumped back onto the sofa and threw his head back.

There was so much he needed to know about what happened with Kirk, but the idiot wouldn’t even open his mouth; a worrying conclusion considering how talkative he usually was.

He’d threatened Kirk with writing up a report for refusing medical treatment under orders, but not even _that_ would sway him.

McCoy wasn’t going to write a report.

No.

He respected Jim too much for that. He just wanted an excuse to get out the room.

Pike was still on board, though, staying in guest quarters. It could be possible to get Pike to convince Jim to speak. If Pike knew, then soon enough so would McCoy.

And Pike was _not_ one to rebel under orders.

“Computer, establish audio-visual transmission with Christopher Pike, guest quarters 2651.”

“Link establishing…”

McCoy rubbed his hands across his face while waiting, until finally a hologram flashed up in the middle of the room.

Pike looked as tired as he was, though probably not for the same reasons. Yet.

“Doctor McCoy,” he greeted seeming to be distracted by something else around the room, “What can I do for you?”

McCoy wondered if he should be calling an admiral while sitting slouched on his sofa when on duty, but hell, he couldn’t find the energy to make the trip over there.

“Uh…it’s about Jim, sir.”

That drew the admiral’s attention back to face hologram-McCoy.

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. For the most part. He’s hiding something and won’t talk. In fact, not a single damn word has been uttered out of his mouth since he woke up.”

Pike nodded slowly, glancing off to the side and pulling a PADD into view.

“And you’re coming to me to get him to talk?”

McCoy shrugged, “If you can…”

Pike pursed his lips together and released a loud sigh, leaning back on the chair he was sitting on.

“Alright. I’ll do what I can, McCoy, but it’ll have to be tomorrow,” he explained, his eyes drifting off to the side again, “I’m currently in the middle of a meeting with the board—or I was, until you called me.”

McCoy’s heart stuttered for a second at the realisation, “Yeah, of course. Sorry.”

The admiral merely shrugged and tossed his PADD to the side.

“Just be stern with him; don’t let him turn the conversation into a joke because then he gets his own way.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

_If I can make the conversation more than one-sided._

“I’ll see you tomorrow, McCoy.”

McCoy nodded curtly, “Sir.”

The transmission flickered and faded away, leaving McCoy half-slumped on his sofa, no better than he was when he first walked in.

* * *

 

McCoy wasn’t even able to walk through one set of sliding doors before his communicator went off again.

Perhaps if he proclaimed himself as off-duty, all the crew-members would leave him alone.

He stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out the communicator, swinging it open and leaning against the wall.

“McCoy here.”

“Sir, this is the medbay, Kirk’s got himself into a frenzy and we can’t calm him down.”

_Christ, not again._

Holding back alarm and setting off to storm down the rest of the corridors, he groused, “Have you never heard of sedatives?”

“Don’t you think we’ve tried? He’s manic, screaming nonsense at us about experimenting on him and throwing every piece of equipment he can get his hands on!”

_Experimenting?_

What the hell?

“I’m on my way. Get everyone else out the room and seal him in there.”

The priority was to make sure no-one else got hurt with Jim’s violent tirades. He’d seen sharp knives and bottled hyposprays the last time he was in the room.

“Yes sir. But what about Kirk?”

_Damn it._

He clenched his jaw, “If there’s no way in hell you can calm him down, then we’ll just have to fix the damage once I get there,” he inhaled deeply, “If he’s attackin’ you ‘cause he thinks you’re gonna hurt him, chances are he’ll stop once he realises you can’t get in, and he can’t get out.”

There was no reply, simply the unsettling sound of static as the transmission was cut off.

Grunting, McCoy thrust his communicator back into his pocket and picked up the pace, sprinting the rest of the way to the entrance of sickbay.

 

The minute McCoy burst through the doors to sickbay, it was obvious which room they had placed Jim in by the commotion outside one of the room entrances.

At least six medical staff members were huddled together, everyone with tricorders and PADDs galore, peeking through the glass window every now and then as if Jim was a damned zoo exhibition.

He strode over with intent, nodding towards one of the fear-struck nurses, “Hey, what the hell happened?”

She looked confused, shaking her head and pointing at the window, “He just went nuts, he’s still at it.”

McCoy recognised the voice, “You’re the one who called, huh? Were you in there with him? What did he say?”

The nurse shrugged, “Accused us of attempting to experiment on him.”

_Oh, yeah, she already said._

He marched towards the window, peering through to locate Jim, “He’s still at it now?”

Sure enough, Jim was hurling medical equipment across the room, screaming incoherently while hypos and small tools that once lived in trays were scattered across the floor.

“Okay,” he had seen enough, “Keep the privacy curtains down, and don’t let anyone in,” he ordered, flicking on a wall switch and watching the windows form an opaque shield.

The nurse patted his shoulder for attention, “You can’t go in there on your own while he’s like that!”

McCoy tugged her hand away from him, scowling and striding backwards towards the door while asserting, “Can’t I?”

 

* * *

 

 

Jim glanced up at the captor that had obviously come to punish him for making so much noise.

The man in white scrubs approached him slowly, gradually raising his hands in submission, evidently thinking he can trick him; or waiting until he’s close enough before striking.

“Hey, Jim, it’s just me,” his captor tried, continuing to step forward while he stepped back, “I’m not gonna do anything, just wanna sit down and talk, yeah?”

Jim shook his head wildly; they were waiting to get him off guard. He was never off guard. He was waiting for them to attack.

He briefly glanced past the man to see that the windows everyone was taunting him through were now opaque. Meaning he couldn’t see anything but the four corners of this experimentation chamber.

“Now, c’mon, Jim, just sit down on that bed so we can have a talk ‘bout what’s scaring you,”

Jim shook his head again.

_So you can experiment on me again? Get out._

He briefly glimpsed down at a scalpel on the floor, eyes snapping back up to the other man to make sure he made no sudden moves.

Slowly, but surely, he knelt to the cold tiled ground, eyes still locked onto the man who was watching him too, as he picked up the knife and stood back up onto his feet again.

Regardless of the fact he was now wielding a sharp object, the other man’s expression was still concerned, and he hadn’t attempted to lash out yet.

Jim took a step back, the other man watching him carefully.

“What’cha plan on doing with that, Jim?”

He glanced down at the scalpel in his hands, fingers trembling for some godforsaken reason he couldn’t figure out.

Subconsciously trying to keep his distance with the man, Jim continued to step back, still observing the instrument clutched between his fingers…

…Until his legs knocked into something solid—instantaneously an alarm sounded, deafening, reverberating around the room—he jumped, impulsively dropping the scalpel to the floor.

His eyes darted around the room, trying to find where it was coming from.

When he looked back, the man had gone.

He spun in a circle; where had the man gone?

 

Then the alarm came to an abrupt halt.

 

“It’s alright,” the voice of the man said again, Jim instantly spinning round to face its location—he was standing next to the experimentation equipment, “I’ve silenced the alarm, it’s alright, Jim.”

He shook his head.

_No._

This man was not his friend.

He was not trying to help him.

 

His body shivered, arms trembling, legs wobbling—he was sure he was going to collapse, so instinctively he stepped backwards towards the solid object that his legs knocked into earlier, to help keep him upright.

But instead he found himself sliding onto it, sitting on it, as if he were a willing participant of his own torture.

At least now, he was slightly safer, sitting on the table, rather than lying on the floor.

Clearly, he was still at an advantage, as the cult leader; at least that’s who he assumed the man was, still didn’t jump on him.

 

For a while, Jim and the other man just stared at each other, for what felt like minutes. Neither man would dare to look away from each other.

Until finally, the other man spoke up, taking a step forward, “I want you to do something for me, alright?”

Jim remained frozen to the spot, unable to move, only glaring at the man, trembling growing intense as the man stepped closer to the table he was sitting on.

“You wonderin’ why you feelin’ so dizzy? You feel how fast you’re breathin’?”

The captor’s accent was becoming more pronounced now, Jim nervously shuffled further and further back onto the table as the man stepped closer.

After a moment…he realised that was what he wanted.

He was now sitting upright in the middle of the experimentation table, his legs laying awkwardly in front of him nonetheless, but he was still right where they wanted him.

No doubt, they will try to get him to lie down on it next.

 

Suddenly—his breath hitched in his throat.

 

His eyes grew wide, startled, instantly he began flailing, legs kicking around the table, hands grasping at his throat.

At that moment, he didn’t care about his captor anymore; he just noticed how he couldn’t get any air in his lungs. He sucked in air as fast as he could, but nothing seemed to be working.

It took mere seconds for his vision to fade into white, while he continued to choke and gag with his fingers clawing at his neck, begging his lungs to actually _do something._

Vaguely, he felt a hand press firmly on his chest—and he was lying down now—on the table, right where they wanted him.

It was a trap. The whole thing was a trap. Now they could do whatever they wanted to him.

But that was at the back of his mind, he was still suffocating, and he was terrified.

 

He was Jim Kirk, and he was terrified.

 

Seconds later, he vaguely felt the touch of a hand at his chin, then something shoved onto his face, covering his mouth and nose, that was clearly there to make things worse, to make him pass out.

He struggled, trying desperately to get the man’s hand off of him, all while being suffocated by his own body. His own body hated him; was rebelling against him.

 

He was so weak…

 

So tired…

 

It didn’t matter anymore.

 

Jim shut his eyes.

 

Everything was okay.

He was so weak.

 

His arms and legs became limp, sprawled out on the table loosely.

 

Nothing felt real.

The world became a dream, and he lost all his energy.

His captor had won, but that was okay.

 

* * *

 

McCoy stood protectively over Jim, glaring worriedly over at the biobed monitors, hoping that the new medication introduced through the mask would bring back up the O2 stats and lower his rapid heartrate.

He knew Jim was going to pass out soon from the second his legs had collided with the biobed, triggering a connection with technology that alerted the whole room of his failing stats as the monitors came to life.

Understandably it had scared the kid though, so he had silenced it and tried to get Jim to slow his breathing down.

Regardless, whether for good or for bad, his body had caught up with him, finding it difficult to continue until he finally began to pass out.

And now McCoy was left standing here, at Jim’s bedside, tipping his chin up and pressing a mask over his face. It was a sedative, above all things. He didn’t need more O2; he needed to calm down.

McCoy let out a quiet sigh of relief when the flashing red numbers turned orange, and then quickly to green.

He would have to avoid hyposprays for a while, the kid seemed absolutely terrified of them. Using masks for anything other than anaesthesia was extremely old-school…but he was willing to compromise to keep Jim happy.

Or, as happy as was possible in his state.

What the hell had happened down there?

Why wouldn’t Jim say anything?

* * *

 

_Beep-beep-beep…….beep-beep-beep……..beep-beep-beep…….._

The rhythm of three was the entirety of Jim’s world for a few minutes.

His whole body was weighed down, his arms limp and unmoving by his sides, as if they were not really attached to his body.

_Beep-beep-beep…….beep-beep-beep……..beep-beep-beep…….._

He cracked open an eye, struggling to do so.

Everything was still black.

For a second, he panicked.

Then he remembered.

_I’m blind in one eye._

With a stressed sigh, he shut the offending eye and grimaced, hating how tired and weak he felt.

What happened?

 

“Hey, kid.”

After a moment, Jim opened the other eye, frowning as confusion filled his gut when he saw that Bones was leaning over him.

“How you feelin’?”

He dropped his head to the side, trying to locate his unattached arms.

They were there, just didn’t seem to want to move. An IV tube was taped down to the back of his hand, but mercifully he had not been restrained.

“You gonna talk to me today?”

His head swung back to the centre again, eyes glazing over as fatigue hit him hard.

Bones was worlds away.

When it was clear that Jim still wasn’t talking, Bones gave a half-hearted sigh and stood back, allowing him the view of the ceiling.

“Give him one mg of epinephrine,” Jim heard from behind him, as he shut his eyes to go back to sleep.

 

Or that was his plan, anyway.

 

Snapping open his eyes, Jim inhaled deeply as a burst of adrenaline flooded through his veins.

A hand grasped his wrist, “It’s alright, it’s alright,” Bones soothed, grip unrelenting, “Don’t you go crazy on me again, you hear?”

Jim frowned, glancing up at McCoy questionably.

The older man’s frown lines became deeper than his, “You don’t remember? Well of course you won’t, you don’t tell me anything,” he sighed, releasing his grip on Jim’s wrist and stalking away.

Jim was left eying the tube in his hand, blinking rapidly to wake himself up a bit more.

Perhaps if he could take it out…

_Slap!_

“Hey, no touching,” McCoy grasped both his wrists and pried them away from each other, “You’re keepin' that in or you go to sleep again. Your choice.”

Jim automatically put on his best pouting face, despite the fact he wasn’t feeling playful at all; just miserable and confused.

McCoy smiled slightly, before moving away again to do something else.

Watching Bones do whatever it was he was doing with his PADD at the foot of his bed, Jim couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with Ruri and Cadel back down on the planet?

Were they still in orbit?

Was Starfleet getting involved?

Well…they couldn’t get involved, because they didn’t know what had happened. Only that Jim had turned up on the transporter pad littered with scars.

“I know talkin’ to you is like talkin’ to a damned brick wall, but I’m gonna _tête-à-tête_ anyway,” Bones announced, tossing the PADD onto Jim’s biobed and striding over to his side, “Pike came to see you while you were sleeping, heard the news of your outburst and all.”

_Outburst?_

“Stayed with you, for like, an hour, before I managed to chase him back off to his quarters again.”

Jim still refused to make eye-contact.

“Spock asked for an update, then offered to be like, a body guard. So that was weird.”

Jim snorted despite himself, slightly annoyed that he’d broken his cold-shoulder profile.

Bones grinned widely at him, “Aha. So you do still have a sense of humour, huh? God help me.”

Jim shrugged, rubbing his hands over his eyes and sighing in fatigue. He abruptly stopped when he felt Bones’ finger tapping on his arm.

He peeked through his fingers and scowled.

“So?” he teased, tapping on Jim’s forearm, right over the scars, “You gonna tell me how you got these?”

With another exasperated sigh, Jim shut his eyes again, willing for the man to go away.

Equally, he heard Bones sigh in frustration as well, before the tapping stopped and felt his presence leave.

His eyes flew open;

“Wait,” he groused out before he could stop himself, voice raw from not being used for so long.

Bones spun back around, facing him with wide surprised eyes.

“I uh...I need to tell you something.”

 

* * *

 **Did you enjoy this piece of textual work? Do you desire it's continuation? It is only logical therefore to leave a kudos or comment.**  (please)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim tells Bones about what he went through, but didn't tell him that he was blinded.  
> Later on, Spock finds out his secret and blabs it to McCoy.  
> Bones tries to fix it but Jim doesn't cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually quite proud of this one, lol!
> 
> Thanks for any comments and kudos you leave, it's the only emails I like getting ahaha

_“So?” he teased, tapping on Jim’s forearm, right over the scars, “You gonna tell me how you got these?”_

_He heard Bones sigh in frustration, before the tapping stopped and felt his presence leave._

_Jim’s eyes flew open;_

_“Wait,” he groused out before he could stop himself, voice raw from not being used for so long._

_Bones spun back around, facing him with wide surprised eyes._

_“I need to tell you something.”_

* * *

 

Bones stared at Jim for a moment longer, hoping to see his face twitch and start laughing as if the whole explanation was just one of his cruel jokes.

Human experimentation? Judging by all the cuts and scars on Jim's body, he dread to think about what those bastards Ruri and Cadel did to him.

Instead, the blonde remained glancing down at his hands, as if in shame or embarrassment.

He finally pursed his lips together and spoke up;

“So…they did some testing on you, huh?”

Jim however was still quiet, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind hoping he wasn’t going to fall silent for days again.

“Yeah, I can see why you didn’t want to tell anyone,” he continued sardonically, watching his friend for any sign of movement.

Apparently he was content staring at his fingers.

“Don’t know why you thought anything different,” Jim mumbled under his breath, still staring down at his hands, “Why else would I have all these cuts?”

McCoy caught the sight of his PADD out the corner of his eye. He ought to tell Pike about this.

“Could have been torture for information,” he suggested, leaning to the side and grasping his PADD with the tips of his fingers.

Jim scoffed, “That’s what it felt like.”

He swiped the screen on, beginning to tap through several options to send a subspace message to Pike.

“I mean like an interrogation,” he corrected, typing in what Jim had told him, “But you’re sure it was just to get information about humans, and not an attempt to pull secret stuff about Starfleet?”

He saw Jim shrug from above him, still typing their conversation down on his PADD.

“I don’t know. They wanted a copy of my memories for some reason,” then Jim snorted in realisation, “They’re gonna have a rough time at the beginning.”

McCoy frowned, glancing up towards Jim briefly, trying to decipher what he meant before deciding it was probably personal and leaving it alone.

_Send._

“Well, apart from the fact you’ve got a dozen and one marks all over your body, you seem pretty damn healthy to me,” he tossed his PADD away and stood up from his chair, gazing down at Jim and trying to get a glimpse of his face. The kid was unreadable.

“Does Spock know?” Jim glanced up from his fingers and for once, actually looked McCoy in the eye.

The doctor ran a hand over his face, “You mean about…this?” he gestured to Jim, paused then shook his head in the negative, “No, it’s patient confidentiality. Except with Pike.”

Jim frowned, and winced for some reason, “Pike knows?”

“He made it an order that I tell him, but said he wouldn’t put it on the record,” McCoy softened his voice and locked eyes with Jim, noticing the tension lines in his face, “I think he’s just worried about ya, kid, but he pulled rank on me to get his way.”

McCoy expected a huge argument to recite from the Captain’s mouth, but instead he just dropped his head back down to gaze at his fingers and sighed.

“Oh.”

McCoy was tempted to make a sarcastic reply to that, but instead sighed, throwing his hands in the air in submission, “Alright, what’s goin’ on with you, Jim?” he questioned, standing as close to the bed as humanly possible, inches away from the frame.

“Nothing.” Jim mumbled under his breath.

“Nothing? Jim, you were experimented on for christ’s sake. If you need to talk to someone, you can talk to a counsellor, or talk to me, or—”

“I’m _fine,_ Bones,” Jim demanded in his captaincy-tone, an attitude he hadn’t heard in weeks.

He sighed, “Alright!” then slumped back onto the chair, “What do you want me to do to help?”

Jim clenched his fists together, a sure sign of agitation, “I said I’m _fine.”_

“You don’t look fine.”

“I don’t want to talk to a god damn shrink! I can deal with this myself, I always have done, and I will now!” Jim yelled, subsequently causing a spike in the monitor’s heart rate.

“ _Easy_ , easy,” McCoy soothed, standing up from the chair once again and heading towards the shelving to grab a sedative, just in case.

“I just don’t want to talk about it, Bones,” Jim was saying from his bed, arms folded across his chest, “Not yet, anyway.”

McCoy approached from behind him, keeping the monitor’s green numbers visible from the corner of his eye. A loaded hypospray was protectively grasped in his left hand.

“That’s alrigh—Christ, Jim, you’re jumpier than a damn startled alpaca,” the blonde had jumped the second he started speaking, as if he didn’t see him coming.

He heard him snort and force laughter, “Sorry, guess they had more of an impact on me than I thought.”

Well, it was possible. After a traumatic event, it was common for a person to become jumpy as their fight-or-flight instincts unnecessarily took over.

“Alright,” he reached his left hand up to Jim’s neck to warn him in advance, “You need to sleep for a while, get that heart-rate back down, while I figure out what to do with you.”

Jim didn’t seem phased by the terrifying hypospray that was inches away from his neck, “You’re just doing that to punish— _agh_!” his head spun around to face his doctor, “ _Fuck!_ Warn me before you do that! _Damn_ it!”

McCoy frowned, pulling away the hypo and glaring back at him.

“I _did_ warn you. I held the hypo to your neck so you knew it was coming, but you didn’t even _look_ at it.”

Jim huffed in frustration, but McCoy could tell his anxiety levels were rising for whatever reason.

“I didn’t want to look at it, I was looking at the monitor.”

He raised an eyebrow, “When did _you_ ever gain an interest in your health, you negligent sonovabitch?” he teased curiously, as Jim rolled his eyes and slumped back against the bed.

Thankfully the sedative was taking effect on him.

“I like…the numbers go up and down…”

McCoy nearly snorted, pocketing the hypo and standing next to the blonde, “Yeah? Well despite looking at something else, the hypo should have come into your left peripheral vision anyway, so there’s no defending yourself here, Jim,” he grumbled, placing a hand on Jim’s forehead and expecting a fever.

Pretty normal. The drugs probably made him loopy.

“S’green now…”

He sighed, that was a good sign, “Yeah, it’s green.”

“Green numbers…”

“Uh-huh.”

“You…you blue, righ’?”

“Not anymore, I’m in my whites.”

“Who…”

Jim fell quiet, and for a hopeful second McCoy thought he had finally fell asleep.

“…blue?”

Or not.

“Spock’s blue, Jim.”

After a couple of moments, McCoy watched Jim’s heart-rate calm down to a more acceptable rate, a _sleeping_ rate, and huffed out a sigh of relief.

_Finally._

* * *

 

Jim was in a state of tranquilised limbo by the time he was being pulled out of his stupor.

He vaguely felt someone hitting his shoulder and growling his name.

“Jim! Wake up, damn it!”

His eyes were open, but they wasn’t focused at all on Bones.

More like, the pretty white walls.

“I’m not telling you again! Snap out of it and eat something before I shoot you up with adrenaline!”

Jim snorted, glancing up at Bones warily and nodding.

“Salad.”

It was Bones’ turn to look confused this time. “What?”

Jim’s eyes drooped as he contemplated sleeping again, “Salad.”

Bones rolled his eyes, “That’s something I never thought I’d hear from ya. Well, if you want it so much, I ain’t gonna stop ya,” and walked off to the side.

He shut his eyes for a second, only to be shaken awake again a millisecond later.

“Hey. Jim. Wake up, you’ve gotta eat.”

He groaned under his breath, “Nooo, I wanna sleep…”

Jim heard someone sigh, before _infant_ was muttered.

“You want Spock to see you like this?”

His eyes flew open at that, “Spock’s here?”

McCoy smirked. “Ha. Yeah, he’s on his way down, since it’s after his shift and all. Now. _Eat.”_

A plate of salad was plonked onto his chest; he glared at it in distaste and frowned at his doctor, “I don’t want salad.”

Bones threw his hands in the air, “You asked for it, damn it!”

His eyebrows furrowed further, “I did?”

McCoy inhaled sharply, stammering under his breath in frustration before shaking his head and grunting.

“ _Okay._ Here’s the deal,” he grouched, slamming a hand onto the biobed rail, “Eat something and I’ll let you leave tomorrow.”

Jim squirmed under McCoy’s scrutinizing stare, “But I don’t like salad…”

“Then I’ll get you something else!”

A rush of energy surged through him, “Something with fries?”

He saw McCoy’s very disappointed, displeased, rock-hard expression in response to his request, but evidently something had struck him, as he just sighed and stalked away.

Jim sat up, “So I can?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

 

That ‘promise’ (or it was a promise as far as Jim was concerned) apparently came with a price.

When Spock strode into the room meaningfully, began a conversation with McCoy, then caught sight of Jim; he immediately side-blogged over to Kirk and asked him how he was holding up, like a cloned broken record.

It was however a price he was more than willing to pay. He’d pay this price every day. Spock wasn’t usually one to let his concern be known.

“Mister Spock…I didn’t know you cared!” Jim winked, wincing when a knife of pain shot through his blind eye.

Spock, as usual, used his heritage to defend himself, “I am merely enquiring for the well-being of the Captain,” he stated, as if surprised that Jim didn’t know this already, “As my duty as first officer, and acting captain, I must ascertain whether you are fit for duty.”

Jim snorted, knowing that the Vulcan had just unknowingly opened pandora’s box.

“Hey, _I’m_ the doctor here, Spock, I’ll tell you whether or not Jim is fit for duty!” Bones chimed in from a distance, clearly overhearing their conversation.

Jim swore he saw Spock minutely frown.

“And he’s _not,”_ Bones added quickly, rightfully assuming Jim would take that moment to jump out of bed.

Jim frowned, “You told me I was perfectly healthy!” he accused, pouting like a five-year-old who just got their toy taken away.

Bones rolled his eyes in exasperation, “Yeah, _physically_ , perhaps. I’ve healed your scars as much as I can and mentally you seem fine. You’re talking again and that’s good,” he confirmed, pausing to let them know there was a _but_ to it.

“ _But,_ internally I’m a little concerned.”

Jim held himself back from throwing a pillow at his doctor in frustration. Even he knew it was childish, but hell, he wanted to punch something.

“That’s not fair! You said I could be released if I eat something!”

Bones scowled and stomped towards the bed, “Oh yeah that’s right Jim. But there’s a lil’ problem. You _haven’t_ eaten anything!”

True, those fries were still sitting on a plate in front of him. Probably cold by now.

He tried to hide a fry or two under his pillow hoping Bones would notice and think he was eating, but apparently that ingenious plan didn’t go as well as hoped.

“Doctor…I request some time alone with the Captain. I must speak with him,” Spock enquired calmly, more of a demand than a request.

The doctor glared at the Vulcan for a second, apparently seeming like he was about to argue with him.

But thought the better of it.

“Alright, Spock,” he agreed cautiously, pursing his lips before he spoke his next words, “But no…weird Vulcan crap, alright? I won’t risk it.”

Spock nodded, clasping his hands behind his back and continuing to lock eyes with McCoy with a stoic expression before he scoffed and walked away.

 

Leaving just Spock and Jim in the room together.

 

Both men watched each other in silence for at least an entire, long, soul-destroying minute, before Jim’s other half decided to pipe up.

“Jim…doctor McCoy has told me you have been behaving eccentrically but is unable to pinpoint the issue.”

The blonde clenched his fingers into the sheets, tightening further as Spock continued to glare into his soul.

No-one could know about the blind eye problem. He would get immediately thrown out of Starfleet.

“What kinda…eccentric behaviour, mister Spock?” he asked innocently, knowing full well of his recent jumpiness.

“Doctor McCoy told me that you have been surprised with his presence on numerous occasions, I believe he described it as ‘jumping harder than a damn kangaroo’, and also implied that you will ‘smash the whole damn bed up’, eventually.”

Jim couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. He never thought he’d hear Spock say something so remarkable.

“Captain?” Spock stopped reciting the words of the grouch and frowned, “Am I correct to assume your finding this humorous means that this is a true occurrence?”

Jim snorted.

“I mean, sure I’ve jumped when he hit me up with a hypo or two, but I do that anyway,” he explained, holding his head to the side defensively, “I _always_ do, you know that, Spock.”

Spock clearly had a problem with this, as he just seemed to watch Jim closely for a while and formulate his next great speech.

“Captain, I…believe I know what your problem is, and I must tell you that it is acceptable, and that we will resolve the matter as soon as possible.”

Jim literally felt his face drain of blood.

_Shit._

_He knows I’m half-blind._

“Spock, I…”

“It is of no consequence to me, Captain, we can tell the doctor and—”

“No, _Spock_ ,” he breathed, closing his eyes and trying to figure out how to tell a rule-abiding _Vulcan_ not to rat his condition out to Bones, “Don’t tell him, okay? I just…I’m not ready yet.”

“Captain, this will affect the crew. And your working relationship with the doctor,”

Jim was about to butt in and interrupt his surreptitious attempt to get him to admit his flawed self to Bones, however…

“But, we will tell the doctor together, for the good of the crew, that you are afraid of him.”

Jim nearly spat out the cold fry he was eating.

“ _What? Afraid_ of him?” he spluttered, mortified at the thought, “Spock…Bones is my friend!”

Spock, gazed at him for a second, clearly taken back that he was _wrong_ in his analytical logical thinking.

And then…pulled up a stool, sitting down beside him; ramrod straight.

“I do not like the idea of the Captain being troubled. I would…greatly appreciate the truth in the matter.”

Jim swallowed hard, pressing his fingers into the sheets again, eying the forgotten fries as a way to avoid eye-contact.

“I uh…” he began, unable to decide whether or not this was just his emotions getting the better of him and if getting thrown out of the fleet was worth it.

Of course it wasn’t, but could Spock keep a secret if he was ordered to?

“When I was down on that planet, with um…Cadel and Ruri, they did something to me and I uh…woke up, with uh, my vision gone—my left eye—just that, I can still _see,_ it’s just like, y’know, that one eye…”

“Jim,” Spock interrupted him, a rare soft look upon his face, “Why did you not tell someone sooner? Humans find their senses extremely important to them, as must all creatures. If one of their main functions was taken away from them…”

Jim bit the inside of his cheek, internally berating himself for admitting this to his _first officer._

“You must tell the doctor immediately so that he is able to rectify this.”

Jim found himself shaking his head, regardless of the tempting idea to get his sight back. If that was even possible.

If it _wasn’t_ possible then he would immediately lose his job and his entire career. And his whole crew, his family and everyone in it.

But Bones _could_ fix it…he could be suffering for nothing.

“It’s a fifty-fifty chance,” Jim accidentally concluded out-loud, much to Spock’s confusion.

“Fifty-fifty, Captain?”

“Yeah, you know, like uh, fifty percent chance he could fix it and fifty percent he can’t.”

“I am aware of the saying, Captain. I just did not know what you were referring this ‘chance’ to.”

Jim took a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders and slouching back on his biobed.

“I suppose he’d want to get back in here, huh.”

Spock agreed, “In a moment, perhaps.”

The Captain sighed, rubbing his hands over his face in exasperation.

He really _really_ wanted to get _both_ his eyes in working order again.

“D’ya think he’d give up on me if he couldn’t? Like, give up and tell the admirals, so that they can fire me?”

Spock looked taken aback but this, “I would assume not, Jim. I believe he would do all that he can to restore your eye-sight, and if you were to leave the ship, he would leave also,” Spock encouraged him, “It is likely he would _bend the rules_ to get the answers he needs, however against it I may be. I will not attempt to stop him, however.”

Once again, Jim felt a broad smile wash over him, a new kind of hope blossomed.

“Alright, Spock,” he finally agreed, “Let’s do it.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Jim exclaimed _let’s do it_ an hour earlier, hiding under a thin blanket and swiping absentmindedly through his PADD in fear of looking at McCoy’s intertwining mix of a livid, anxiety-ridden, exasperated emotional face, was not part of his plan.

But alas, he lay curled up in a ball under a blanket with his PADD like a five-year-old not wanting to go to school.

The fact that Bones had yet to yank back his comfort blanket and start screaming into his ear for lying about his blind eye was probably a good sign.

He was also probably still speaking to Spock; the second that Bones had walked into the room and made eye-contact with the Vulcan, Jim had tucked himself away out of sight.

Out of sight out of mind, right?

That was how he hoped it worked in reality, at least.

“ _JIM!”_

Ah, yes, there it was, the bellowing voice of a man who was about to lay upon him a hundred metaphors to exaggerate how stupid he was.

Jim slowly dragged his eyes away from his PADD and glanced at the beads of light shining through under the thin blanket.

“…Yeah?” he accidentally squealed. How unmanly of him.

His shoulders ached from being tensed up for such a long period of time. He tried to focus on that instead of his building anxiety.

“You better have a good explanation for this. It’s been two weeks since I dragged your ass back from alien hell, and you never thought to mention you’re fuckin’ _blind?”_

Jim’s grip on his PADD clenched harder, and he cleared his throat hoping he wouldn’t squeak something out again.

“It’s only in one eye,” he defended himself, as if that was a perfectly good reason not to tell your chief medical officer that your eye-sight is half gone.

“I don’t give a damn! Who knows what the reason could be? It might be serious!”

_Well, I know what it is and it’s not serious, so we’re good, Bones._

At least, that was what he thought to himself.

“It’s fine, Bones,” came out of his mouth instead.

How that intelligent sentence he had formed in his brain filtered out into such mundane crap was beyond him.

“It’s not fine, damn it! None of this—the hell are you doing under there—”

Jim didn’t have a moment to prepare as the blanket was suddenly ripped over his head, exposing him to the harsh lights of both the medbay and his doctor’s face.

The PADD was dropped from his hands as he quickly twisted onto his stomach and slammed his head back into the pillow.

Ah, darkness. Bliss.

“The fact you can’t even properly adjust to the light difference is concerning too. You’re an idiot, Jim.”

_Don’t I know it._

“I believe it is normal for humans to experience a brief overwhelming sensation when quickly exposed to large differencing amounts of light, is it not?”

Oh, Spock was still here. Good.

“Right, thanks, Spock. If you’ll just go ahead and show me your medical degree I’ll arrange a lesson with my staff and you can lecture them about your profound findings, since you’re a doctor and all.”

“I am not a doctor.”

“Shut up then!”

_Jeez, lay off the poor guy, I’m the one that fucked up._

_Like always._

“Jim, if you don’t get your head off that pillow, I’m gonna rip it out from under your face and hit you with it.”

_Ugh._

He moaned his protest loudly into the pillow before beginning the slow, soul-destroying movement of manoeuvring his tired, exhausted muscles onto his back.

At least the lights had been somewhat dimmed. Bones still cared then, no matter how terrible his bedside manner might be.

Jim slowly forced his eyes to meet with McCoy’s, who in return was simply just thoughtfully staring at him through furrowed eyebrows, probably trying to come up with a solution to his predicament other than insulting and shouting at people.

When his hard expression softened, and he began striding around to the back of his biobed, Jim knew Bones had come up with a plan in seconds.

“Right, Spock, I want you out,” Jim heard from behind him, followed by a series of unfamiliar beeping sounds.

Jim glanced up at Spock to see his reaction, and of course he didn’t seem too happy about that.

“Doctor?”

“You heard me, I can’t have you in here.”

Spock opened his mouth to protest again, but Jim spoke up and waved him off, “It’s fine, Spock,” he encouraged, smiling when brown eyes locked onto his, “Bones just doesn’t want anyone to see him mess up ‘cuz he has no idea what he’s doing.”

He knew he incurred the wrath of the gods when he heard the man shout behind him,

“Damn it, Jim! Do you want me to help you or—”

“ _Bones…”_ he cautioned, trying to let him in on the message his joke was trying to convey.

“Oh. Yeah. Well I mean, no, I _do_ know what I’m doing but…” Jim heard a frustrated sigh before an exasperated “get out, Spock, _please_.”

Wordlessly, Spock merely turned around, frowning, still obviously confused with the conversation.

Jim watched the door until it hissed shut, leaving him alone in the room with one angry and tired doctor.

Having nothing else to look at, Jim had no choice but to listen to the incessant beeping and humming of the unknown sounds behind him, his ears tuning in to every step that the doctor made around the bed.

The whole idea of the unknown was ramping up his anxiety, and he knew it was going to soon be obvious to his doctor when the heart-rate monitor, the only beeping he recognised, began to beep faster.

Bones soon resurfaced around to the front of Jim’s bed, watching him carefully the entire time.

“You doin’ alright?”

Jim nodded feebly into the pillow, pursing his lips and feeling how dry and cracked they were.

Bones nodded back, before turning his attention to the foot of his bed and whipping out a PADD, “I’m gonna run a couple of tests, see what’s causin’ this,” he explained skilfully, eyes locked onto the PADD while he typed onto it, “Unless of course you know why already, which would avoid unnecessary testing, _but_ something tells me you won’t say anything either way.”

Jim snorted and rolled his eyes. Bones knew him too well.

Bones would find out about the implant in his head either way, but for some reason he just couldn’t find it in him to be able to speak about it.

At least with testing, even if it took longer, he wouldn’t have to say anything at all, and Bones would find out on his own.

Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when the biobed suddenly started rising upright, and he cleverly tried to hide it by swatting at his leg as if he felt something crawling on it.

“I ain’t stupid, Jim, I know I scared the shit outta ya.”

Jim discontinued hitting his leg and scowled up at McCoy, who had just set his PADD down on the biobed.

“Maybe if you told me when you were doing stuff I wouldn’t be so jumpy.”

McCoy glared at him, “ _Maybe_ if you weren’t so damn jumpy I wouldn’t _have_ to tell you every single thing I’m doing.”

Jim rolled his eyes, “I’m blind in one eye, you telling me you’re unable to accustom to a vulnerable patient’s needs?”

Bones smiled, “So you do admit it.”

Jim scowled, “Maybe I should get another doctor.”

“Like hell you are,” Bones stalked behind him again, leaving Jim none-the-wiser as to what was going on. The rhythmic beeping he could hear from behind him was beginning to get on his nerves.

When the doctor reappeared into his peripheral vision with a device he’d never seen before, he scowled suspiciously at it. Bones caught sight of him and rolled his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Jim, it’s just a damn ophthalmoscope.”

Jim blinked.

“It’s a _what_?”

Bones sighed, pulling up a stool and scooting uncomfortably close next to Jim’s biobed, “So that I can see the back of ya damned eyes,” he explained sardonically, waiting for Jim to stop glaring at the device as if it were a special weapon derived from ancient Klingon heritage.

“Now, stop freaking out like a damned puppy and just look to the left.”

Jim wanted to smack that device right out of his hands; but judging by the stern and concentrating look upon the doctor’s face, it would probably do nothing but earn him the privilege of being strapped to the damn bed.

So, cautiously and unwillingly, he glanced to his left, tensing up when Bones grabbed his chin to the point where he felt like he was gonna explode.

“Christ, calm down, Jim, I’ve known kids that deal with this better than you.”

Jim fidgeted with his hands and forced out a breath he was holding, “I just don’t know what you’re doing.”

When a bright orange light suddenly pierced his left eyeball a few moments later, it took everything in him not to flinch.

“I told you, I’m just looking at the back of your eye,” Bones explained slowly, deep in concentration, “It’s routine back down on Earth, especially with kids, so stop being such an infant.”

Jim forced himself to unclench his hands, deciding he could at least _try_ to relax since Bones was probably internally suffering for having patience with him.

A few moments later, and he was aware of himself clenching onto the bed sheets again as the seconds ticked on.

“Look to your right.”

Jim obeyed quietly.

_God, this is worse than getting hyposprays._

_At least they’re over in a second._

_Thank god eye tests aren’t mandatory._

When there was absolute silence for 16 seconds straight (yes, he was counting), Jim started scratching at the sheets, desperate to get away.

He was _so_ anxious for some reason, he had no idea why. Perhaps it was people getting all into his personal space.

_Just like the Bovis people…_

_…When they examined me—_

“ **Stop!** _Stop!”_ Jim yapped all too quickly, flinching away and wheezing for breath as if just awoken from a nightmare.

When he allowed himself to look at Bones’ face, he expected there to be frustration, even anger, but all he could see was concern, eyebrows knitted together trying to figure out what he did wrong.

“You alright?” the other man finally said, the light on the tool fading out as it was automatically turned off.

Jim brought his arms up to his chest and rubbed them feebly, goosebumps forming everywhere.

“Yeah…”

Bones shook his head, placing his device aside and stealing a quick glance up at his monitors.  
For reasons unknown to him, Jim was still afraid to move, or even to look away from the specific spot he was staring at.

“You’re not okay, you’re still panickin’ a little. What’s wrong?”

Jim felt his stomach flip at the sudden change in bedside manner, used to the witty one-liners and exasperated mannerisms.

“I can’t do that again,” he pleaded, ego completely out of the window at this point.

Bones looked at him sympathetically, nodding and wheeling to the edge of his biobed again, “I don’t need to anyway,” he offered, surprising Jim a little, “You’ve got a detached retina, which explains your blindness in the left eye.”

Jim took this in slowly, unsure of how to feel. There wasn’t a magical cure when it came to curing organs, he knew Bones would have to stick to the normal methods.

“And that means surgery, right?” he asked slowly, already feeling that dreaded anxiety ramping back up again.

Again, Bones nodded mutely, the expression upon his face having a sense of worry and protectiveness that Jim hadn’t seen from the man since they met.

“You’re gonna struggle with that, aren’t ya?”

Jim swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

Bones sighed, but smiled and patted Jim’s shoulder gently, “S’alright, I can fix it easily, but I absolutely _cannot_ have you flinching away like you did just now, and I can’t have you asleep because I won’t be able to access your eye properly, so I’ll just partially sedate you. That alright with ya?”

Jim nodded again. He knew from past experiences, whether he wanted them or not, that being sedated meant all his anxiety, frustration, anger, sadness and panic would be pushed far away from his body, leaving him in some weak, contented limbo.

This was a rare conversation between the two men, where Jim’s walls had collapsed, allowing his emotions to pour out to the man in front of him; and Bones didn’t hide his worry and protectiveness for Jim under a coat of cantankerous personality.

“We’ll talk about why the hell you’re such a damn roller-coaster of emotions after I’m done.”

Jim tiredly watched McCoy get out of his seat and march over to the tray of instruments behind him, fiddling with a variety of different tools for several minutes until he picked up a hypospray.

If Jim wanted to avoid hypos back then, it was nothing compared to the thought of them now.

Unconsciously, Jim’s fatigued body suddenly flooded his veins with adrenaline as he flailed at the sight of the hypo and tried to get away, nearly falling out of bed doing so.

“Hey hey hey,” Bones quickly pocked the device and strode over to him, Jim’s eyes still staring at the pocket, “Easy, easy, look at me—calm down, Jim, calm down…”

Jim forced his eyes to look up at McCoy, lips parted as he tried to form a sentence, but he was breathing too fast to get a word out.

He shook his head in denial of the whole situation. What was wrong with him?

Bones’ face towered over him, hands pushing against his chest and trying to get him to lay back down.

“S’alright, do you wanna try something different?”

Jim nodded immediately, unable to tolerate even the sight of hyposprays right now.

He pushed away the thoughts that tried to surface to the forefront of his mind—Ruri pinning his drugged body to the exam table and pressing hypo after hypo into his neck to get him unconscious. For some reason, the memory was now a sore point in reality, and he hated it. So much.

Bones returned momentarily with an IV drip, but even that sent another memory spinning around his brain.

_It’s alright, you won’t be able to move around soon anyway, I’ve just given you a paralytic drug…look, you’re drooling already!_

Jim’s body violently wrenched itself backwards, his torso almost taking a nosedive behind the bed having nearly fallen off the back.

Immediately, Bones, dropped the equipment he was holding and reached around the biobed, slamming a hand on a button which only set off an alarm.

Overwhelmed and confused, Jim gagged and tried to get away from his _friend_ that was trying to approach him, unable to fathom why he was so scared. He didn’t understand, this wasn’t normal.

Watching Jim nearly fall off the biobed, Bones hit another button on the wall, instantly causing barriers on the biobed to shoot up on all sides.

“Okay, okay, look, no sedatives, alright? No sedatives, see?” Bones lifted his hands up as if in surrender, speaking to him as if talking to a child.

Jim shook his head, raising his arms up in a defensive position as if his friend was about to attack him.

He choked out a sob in confusion and watched his hands shake.

“What’s happening to me?!” he nearly screamed, hunched up against the borders of the biobed and hyperventilating.

Bones approached him cautiously, reaching a hand over to Jim’s wrist and taking it carefully.

“It’s just a panic attack. It’s alright, just breathe through it.”

Jim made no attempt to shake Bones’ hand away from his, but continued heavily breathing and looking around as if he didn’t know where he was.

Monitors now wailing in his ears at varying frequencies, Jim cried out in distress in an attempt to block out all the noises, block out all the thoughts that were invading his mind.

He wasn’t aware of the on-duty staff answering the button call and striding in, all his body did was fight off anyone that went near him, his mind a haze of confusion and fear.

Several people were trying to speak to him, some of them softly, some of them sternly, his arms were being grabbed, his legs were being pulled down, someone had pinned his chest to the bed and he had no idea who, so he just blindly fought, kicking and hitting, punching and screaming in hope that the invasive behaviour will stop; that the staff will stop surrounding him and examining him, like his own tormenters had done.

Someone was trying to hypo him in the neck, their arm descending towards his face constantly, but even as he hit the offending limb out of the way and screamed at the blue sleeve, it still returned seconds later to try again. Flashes of memory from his captors invaded his mind; he didn’t want to be pinned down and sedated, used for information and watched through an implant, blinded and hurt, judged and at the mercy of his captors for the rest of his life.

Distantly, he felt it—someone taking his forearm, but this one felt different. It was as if this attacking hand wasn’t like the rest of them. He vaguely felt himself jolting his arm away, automatically, as if it wasn’t him that was controlling his movements.

But the feeling on his arm grew stronger, the sensation of whatever it was that had grasped his arm bringing some sort of grounding. His arm stopped fighting, eventually falling limp at his side, and the grasp on his forearm grew stronger. A pressure began on his head, as if five fingers were all delicately placed over his face, and he could feel every single one of them. More pressure was applied, gently forced into his PSI points, and immediately his entire body went limp and sagged against the bed.

His arms and legs were floppy, and his head was too heavy to move. Distantly he could still feel and hear himself breathing rapidly, but he couldn’t control it.

Above him, his hazy vision—at least the vision from his right eye—cleared somewhat, the blurry images forming into shapes and colours, until finally he was able to tell what he was looking at.

Spock was to his right, his hand still firmly placed on his head, as if too afraid to see what would happen if he let go. Bones was on his left, looking absolutely mortified by what he’d just experienced. Behind him were several other white-clad figures moving around and talking amongst themselves, but Jim was too tired to focus on what they were saying.

It seems Spock heard the commotion after watching the onslaught of doctors rushing around, and had followed them into his room.

Jim was staring right at him, trying to make his lips speak his name, but the words just wouldn't come.

 

TBC...

* * *

 **Did you enjoy this piece of textual work? Do you desire it's continuation? It is only logical therefore to leave a kudos or comment.**  (please)

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's eye finally gets treated, but are his tormentors truly gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks so much for the comments and kudos...I know it seems like nothing to you guys but seriously whenever I get a (1) notification in my email I always hope that it's from AO3! :)

_Above him, his hazy vision cleared somewhat, the blurry images forming into shapes and colours, until finally he was able to tell what he was looking at._

_Spock was on his right, his hand still firmly placed on his head, as if too afraid to see what would happen if he let go. Bones was on his left, looking absolutely mortified by what he’d just experienced._

_It seems Spock heard the commotion after the onslaught of doctors rushing around and followed them into the room._

* * *

 

“I will not be able to maintain this link for long, doctor.”

McCoy shut his eyes and shook his head in dismissal, “I know, I know,” and he paced around, trying to figure out how he was going to do this. They still needed Jim somewhat awake.

Spock almost didn’t register McCoy darting off in another direction, his eyes watching Jim closely, eyes blown wide in fear. His fingers still had not moved from Jim’s face.

His eye caught McCoy walking by him, “Get me a cannister of nitrous oxide,” he heard him say, strolling across the room again. The doctor’s words were distant and fragmented as Spock’s mind focused on nothing but the man in front of him.

The meld was probably not helping.

Jim was pale, his blue eyes that were once filled with energy and passion were now starless, dull, and terrified. It was clear he was experiencing something—some kind of flashback, perhaps.

Through the link, he was only able to establish that something was wrong emotionally with Jim. But his thoughts were so disjointed and confusing, it was a rapid mess, a sea of random images that even his own sharp mind could not process.

Something had happened to Jim back on the planet of Bovis, something that he clearly did not want to talk about.

He almost didn’t notice McCoy returning to his side, swiftly sitting himself on a stool behind the bed where Jim’s head lay, placing the cannister beside him.

“ _Okay_ ,” he was muttering to himself, leaning forward slightly over Jim’s face and glancing up at Spock, “You need to stop whatever you’re doing now.”

As much as Spock wanted to keep the link established, it was weakening his mental shields, and if he remain here then Jim too would grow worse.

“It’s alright,” McCoy quickly added, drawing Spock’s attention back to him, “You can stay. I just need access to his…face.”

It was true, the doctor couldn’t do anything while Spock had his hands planted over Jim.

He paused for a moment, allowing himself to carefully ease away from the meld, before removing his hand and glancing up to McCoy expectantly.

The other man nodded his thanks, and Spock watched as Jim grew more aware, his eyes beginning to dart around the room.

McCoy placed a hand on Jim’s cheek to try to get his attention.

“Hey, kid. You with me?”

It took a moment for confused eyes to find him; but they did.

McCoy continued, “I know this is probably freakin’ you out, huh? Well, I’m gonna help with that, and Spock here is gonna stay here and irritate me, aren’t’cha?” he side-eyed Spock as if to urge a reply.

Spock decided this was not the correct moment to tease the doctor into pretending he didn’t understand his jokes.

“I will remain here, unless of course you decide you do not need me.”

Jim’s eyes suddenly gained focus then, his neck dropping to the right to face Spock.

“I do…” Jim swallowed hard, seemingly struggling to form a straight sentence, “I do need you…” his voice was hollow, and did not sound like Jim Kirk.

There was silence from all three men, no snarky response even from the doctor.

Both the Captain and the first officer stared at each other for a while longer, before McCoy decided the contest was off, “Alright, that’s enough of that,” he said jokingly, grabbing the kid’s head and forcing it upright again, “Don’t move your head.”

Jim didn’t nod in reply, only a brief acknowledgement with a forced exhale through his nose.

“Now, I don’t want you smacking my hands away while I’m in the middle of this, so…” McCoy twisted behind him, picking up something and returning back around to Jim, “Don’t know why my staff couldn’t have fitted this thing them damn selves,” he grumbled, stuffing a tube into the cannister irritably.

“What you gonna do?” Jim quietly asked, his voice any softer it probably wouldn’t have been intelligible.

McCoy glanced back up at Jim, “Just makin’ you comfortable,” he encouraged with a smirk, “But don’t you go asking for this again in the future…if you get written up with a nitrous oxide addition it’s gonna look real bad on me,” he added, picking up the device on the other end of the tube and carefully placing it over Jim’s nose, the blonde’s eyes going cross-eyed from trying to watch so closely.

Whatever Jim was thinking five minutes ago was apparently replaced by confusion from his current scenario.

“But what you gonna do?”

McCoy jerked his chin up and raised an eyebrow, “You’ll see soon enough.”

To Spock’s dismay, Jim appeared to be shedding tears. Something clearly was wrong. He didn’t understand why…this was a safe place. He was on the Enterprise with his chief medical officer and first officer, safe and sound in the medbay.

McCoy leaned over and grabbed the man’s shaking wrist, “Hey hey hey, buddy, it’s alright. Just give it a few minutes, it’ll work.”

Jim didn’t attempt move his hand away, but his lips shook as he spoke, “Bones…I’m fuckin’ scared and I don’t know why,” he stammered out, licking his lips and started crying ugly tears again, “I don’t know what’s fuckin’ happening!”

McCoy placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder and rubbed it soothingly, “Jus’ hang in there for a little while longer.”

When a reply from Jim went amiss, Spock gave into the mental tugging of his human side and slowly took Jim’s arm, to the surprise of McCoy. He noticed the raised brow out the corner of his eye.

“Fear not, Jim…for I am here with you.”

Slowly but surely, Jim’s wild eyes stopped spazzing around the room and finally lay upon Spock, watching him for a while as if trying to decipher what he said.

To his interest, the doctor had also stopped pulling strange looks at him after he had uttered the last sentence, and he wondered why it had caused such a reaction.

Jim’s eyes slowly went from sheer terror to furrowing his brow.

“It smells funny….”

McCoy turned his attention back to Jim, glancing to the monitor every now and then.

“Uh huh.”

“Smells like metal…”

“That’s normal.”

“Smells like…Enterprise…”

A low chuckle, “Spock, you’re not gonna like this.”

Spock shook himself mentally out of his wistfulness and met McCoy’s gaze. Why would he not like this?

“I do not understand.”

McCoy smirked again, “Jim’s gonna be acting…illogically,” he stated apparently to appease Spock’s vocabulary.

To his human delight, Jim’s head slumped over to the side to face Spock and broke out in a grin.

“Spock! You’re here!”

The Vulcan frowned.

“Is the Captain suffering from memory loss, doctor?”

The doctor shrugged, “Nope.”

“Boooones!”

“Oh, Christ.”

“Booones!”

Why was Jim acting so eccentrically?

He locked his gaze with the contraption currently planted over Jim’s nose. Perhaps the nitrous oxide was having an effect on him.

“I believe Jim is having an allergic reaction to the gas you are feeding him.”

The younger man was just rolling his head around the bed as if he were in euphoria. Even an emotional man such as Jim would not usually be displaying this amount of joy.

“He’s not, Spock, this is normal,” McCoy confirmed, running his hand along the side of the biobed to feel for the buttons, “You’re a science man, you should know what this is doing to him!”

Spock pursed his lips. He was a science man, he was not however, a medical man. And the actions the Captain was displaying due to this gas was not something that he had experienced before…and he had no intent to.

“As you so often like to pride yourself, you _are_ a doctor, so why not explain to me the reasoning behind Kirk’s behaviour?”

McCoy sighed, simultaneously pressing a button that his fingers had found on the side of the bed, and instantly the head of the bed began lowering down flat again.

“It’s a sedative that inhibits a human’s nervous system neurotransmitter. I don’t know how you Vulcans would react to it, so don’t even ask,” he vaguely explained, much to Spock’s dissatisfaction.

“Doctor—”

“Spock, I need to concentrate. If you’re still burning with the desire for knowledge on a damn sedative then look it up the data banks,” McCoy barked, rolling up behind the now flat biobed and tapping on Jim’s face. “How you feelin’ Jim?”

Jim seemed to take a moment to process the sentence and come up with a reply. Then his eyes rolled back to look at McCoy and started grinning again.

“Feelin’ good, huh? That’s good. Spock, do me a favour and get nurse Chapel in here,” he ordered, not even looking up to acknowledge the Vulcan.

Slightly irritated, Spock removed himself from his seat and headed for the door, glancing over to the Captain on the way over to make sure that he was still alright.

He was as well as could be expected, considering he was just staring at the ceiling giggling to himself illogically.

What was he supposed to do now? His main function was to keep the captain safe, and he didn’t _have_ to man the bridge now that they were docked and Sulu was acting-acting Captain.

They had arrived at Starbase K94, he might as well greet those who are waiting for him. He was the acting Captain now, after all…as much as he preferred Jim in that seat.

But Jim was safe with the doctor, he must remember that.

* * *

 

McCoy kept his hands clasped around Jim’s face, trying to remind him not to move.

Apparently “don’t move your head” was able to stay in the kid’s brain for all of five seconds before he started lulling to the side again.

At this rate Jim was gonna end up with a laser beam to the eyebrow.

 

_Swoosh…_

The doors opened.

 

McCoy looked up, offered a half-smirk to his nurse before gesturing his chin at Jim, “He’s under conscious sedation but he won’t stop moving his damn head.”

Nurse Chapel quickly took her place beside him, with herself to the left of Jim’s body and McCoy behind his head.

She quickly stole a glance under the biobed and looked up under her eyebrows to her boss, “Perhaps instead of having me hold him here we can just use a forehead strap?”

McCoy searched for Chapel’s hands and nodded, scooting out the way for his nurse to do her job.

As he did so, giggling began under his hands again.

“Bones…ah-ha-ha…do I look like a pig?”

McCoy snorted and stared at him absurdly, “What?”

Jim went cross-eyed, “I have a thing on my nose…” he lifted his hand to touch the mask, “…M’ a pig…”

McCoy quickly took Jim’s hand and placed it back over his chest again, “Yeah, you’re a pig, whatever. Just stop moving.”

As Chapel pulled the strap over Jim’s forehead, all that could be heard was low giggling fits.

“Someone’s happy, huh?” Chapel teased, running her hand along the fabric to make sure it was tight enough then nodding to McCoy.

The doctor glanced back to Jim and gave him a once-over, making sure there wasn’t a way he was going to be able to move his head and mess up his delicate work.

“Okay,” he confirmed. He might as well start now, “Pass me the tray and we’ll get to work.”

Jim made a low noise at the back of this throat, which soon ended up turning into a giggle, “…Get to work, Bones!” he sing-songed, not giving a care in the world to the situation outside of his drugged state.

“Get to work…get get…get to work…get…get get…geeeet to work…”

“Jesus Christ this kid is gonna be annoying,” McCoy mumbled, taking an aural speculum and twiddling with it with his fingers.

“Geeeet to work…get get get—whats that?”

McCoy paused momentarily, realising he’d still need to be careful around Jim. He’d gone through trauma back on that planet with being experimented on and being partially sedated wasn’t a complete cure.

“I’m gonna retract your eyelids so you can’t blink.”

He saw Jim’s apprehensive look from under him, his drugged brain trying to figure out what that meant.

“Whaaaat?”

Chapel swooped in, “He means he wants to look at your eye, but he can’t see it when you’re blinking,” she explained as if to a child.

It was lucky she was trained to do such things.

“Oh.” Jim acknowledged, shrugging regardless and breaking out into a grin again, “Kay!”

Rolling his eyes, McCoy leaned over towards Jim and carefully pushed the device between Jim’s eyelids, pulling them completely open, but Jim was still laughing.

“I can see yooou!”

McCoy resisted the urge to rub his face in his hands and grunted.

_Jesus Christ, Jim._

“Let’s do a cryopexy, we should be able to seal the tear from there, it’s pretty small,” he instructed, producing a vial of proparacaine to squeeze the numbing drop into Jim’s eye.

“You sound reeeallly intelligent!” Jim retorted, his fingers beginning to rub up and down his legs. It was clear he was getting distressed by what was happening, but the drugs had him content.

“Yeah? Thanks, Jim,” McCoy mumbled, concentrating on lingering the drop over Jim’s eye, then squeezed gently.

Jim jolted as the drop hit his eye, causing a temporary spike in his heart-rate until it calmed down again. McCoy frowned at the monitors for a second and turned to Chapel.

“Up the nitrous a little, he still seems to be struggling.”

She nodded, immediately wheeling her stool over to the cannister and slightly increasing the amounts within safe range.

McCoy placed the vial aside and leaned over Jim, “You doin’ okay there?”

Jim’s eyes were bright—if not watery by the drops—but there was a certain spark in there that he hadn’t seen before he was on the medication.

The blonde nodded instantly, confirming that he was ok, backing it up with a wide grin and a slurred _“yeeeeah!”_

McCoy nodded, scooting closer and glancing down at the eye he promised Jim he would fix.

If he couldn’t fix it…then Jim would likely get thrown out of his captaincy, and there was no way McCoy would stay on board without him.

He watched his friend for a moment longer, Jim happily swaying his legs left and right on the biobed, tapping his fingers either in anticipation or worry. McCoy would fix him…he had to. And he wasn’t going to back down until his friend had his sight back.

“Cryo-probe,” he ordered, reaching a hand out to retrieve the item.

The tool was almost immediately slapped into the palm of his hand.

Before he was even able to turn it on, Jim was already going off on another drug-induced tangent.

“D’ya remember back when we were kids and we’d have walkie talkies?”

McCoy was three seconds away from slapping Jim across the forehead, but Chapel intervened.

“Yep, that was ages ago, wasn’t it?”

“Uh huh. After this I’m gonna go n’ get one!”

“That’s what communicators are for, Jim.”

Jim’s other eye went almost as wide as the retracted one, “Commuuunicators?” astonished, he gaped in realisation, “Oh yeah!”

Noticing that the tense lines in McCoy’s face were not in fact because of the procedure, Chapel decided it was best to try and stay quiet.

 

For perhaps, seventeen seconds.

 

“Booones…”

“Bones…”

“Booneees…”

“God, _what?”_

“Here is the verbal instruction manual on the inner workings of a fan! Firstly…”

Jim was still talking, but McCoy had stopped listening.

* * *

 

 

Ten minutes later, and Jim was still somehow finding the nerve to blab on about everything he could possibly think of under the sun, irritating McCoy to the point where he was beginning to consider taping the damn kid’s mouth shut.

“D’yuh think a replicator can replicate chunks of a door?”

McCoy’s eye twitched, and he held his hand out, “Get me a syringe of ocucoat for corneal lubrication,” he ordered, trying his best not to take any notice of Jim.

“Yes, doctor.”

“I think maybe Spock is feeling sad….”

Sighing, he leaned back to straighten his aching back while waiting for the tool to arrive.

“D’yew think he’s sad?”

McCoy grunted and shut his eyes, “I wouldn’t be surprised considering he has to deal with you for 9 hours a day.”

Nurse Chapel promptly returned with the syringe of fluid, so he took it from her and got back to work.

“I’ll tell you what,” he heard Chapel say mockingly, “This is definitely good blackmail material.”

Injecting the drops over his patient’s eye, McCoy snorted at Chapel’s retort and raised an eyebrow in agreement.

Blissfully, Jim’s sentences had soon resorted to just humming, a sound that was much easier for McCoy to tolerate instead of the endless deluge of questions.

He picked up the now ready cryo-probe from the tray and carefully guided it towards Jim’s eye.

“Might feel a lil’ pressure, m’kay?” he mumbled, his eyes trained onto Jim’s own.

Jim hummed again in acknowledgement, the peace and quiet finally a relief for the doctor who preferred silence.

Pressing it against the surface of Jim’s eye, he saw the kid’s fingers curl up into a fist.

“That hurt?” he asked, not taking the tool away from the eye.

He couldn’t stop now.

“Nope…feels weird…”

“Uh-huh,” McCoy agreed, moving the tool to a different part of Jim’s eye and holding it there again, “Would do. Might feel a little cold, too.”

Surprisingly, Jim remained quiet after that, and a niggling feeling at the back of McCoy’s mind was telling him to start worrying. Even properly awake, Jim would still be talking to get his mind off of it.

“Bones?”

He moved the probe to a different location again.

“Mmmmhm?”

“Don’t wanna be thrown outta the Enterprise…like it here.” His voice was generally shaking, as if he generally believed he was going to be demoted.

McCoy sighed, moving the probe to it’s last point of the eye, “You’re not gonna get thrown out. I’m gonna fix ya.”

A few moments went by before Jim spoke up again.

“Pike’ll throw me out if I told him I was too scared, so I’m not gonna tell him…”

His stomach turned, “Why you feelin’ scared?”

“I don’t wanna go back to that planet anymore…”

McCoy scoffed quietly to himself.

_No-one would want to after what you’ve been through, kid._

“I know. You don’t have to go back there,” he offered, removing the probe from the eye and placing it back in the tray. Hopefully, on top of a few regenerator treatments, Jim’s eye should be able to repair itself now.

“But I have to go back there…but I don’t want to…”

He sighed again, “Why do you have to go back there, Jim?”

“Mmm…Bovis people told me to come back so they can get rid of the thing they put in me and tell me if they’re gonna join the Federation or not…”

He assumed _Bovis people_ meant Ruri and Cadel.

“Well, we sure as hell ain’t gonna let them join the Feder—” he paused, sitting back and staring at Jim suspiciously, “They put something in you?”

Jim’s eyes drifted back to meet his.

“Yeah….it hurt lots so I don’t wanna go back again because then it’ll just hurt again and I don’t want that…”

McCoy frowned, nodding towards Chapel and gesturing at the mask on Jim’s nose.

He could reverse the effects of the gas now that the procedure was done, he did need a more coherent and ‘intelligent’ Jim to tell him what they had _put into him._

“Why the hell you just tellin’ me this now?” he accused, reaching towards the eyelid retractors to remove it.

“Don’t wanna tell Bones…Bones reminds me of Ruri…”

McCoy felt bile rise to his throat at that. Why was Jim comparing him to someone that had tried to torture him?

“Why does Bones remind you of Ruri, Jim?” he asked, assuming the kid was so out of it that he had no idea who he was talking to.

Jim’s fingers were now clawing on his gown, “I don’t wanna be experimented on again…don’t tell him what I told you or he’ll get mad, okay?”

Bones swallowed the lump in his throat, carefully clicking off the retractors and placing it on a tray.

“Alright, I won’t tell Bones,” Bones said. He felt sick.

“I’m slowing the nitrous down and increasing the oxygen levels,” Chapel informed him, cleverly not making any comment as to what Jim was saying, “He should start to gain lucidity in a few minutes.”

McCoy nodded slightly, still a bit stunned.

Jim didn’t want to tell McCoy about what was done to him because he reminded him of Ruri?

“Where’s Spock?”

 _That_ caught him off guard.

“What?”

“Where’s Spock?”

“Spock’s outside, he uh…couldn’t come in while you were uh…being treated.”

Jim blinked, then paused and blinked again rapidly, apparently noticing he could actually move his left eye now.

“Don’t strain it too much,” he warned, “Nurse, get a patch for his eye will ya?”

Chapel, who was pretty much just on standby at the side, nodded and walked off in search for the patch.

When she returned and taped the bandage to Jim’s eye, McCoy nodded towards her to confirm she could leave.

“Bones?”

_Oh crap. He’s lucid already._

“Yeah, Jim?” he turned around to face him, expecting there to be some kind of mass of apology after spilling the beans.

But upon locking eyes with him, Jim remained silent, was very pale and looking up at him pleadingly.

“You okay there?” he took a few steps towards the bed, expecting him to lash out like he had done before, but he just shut his eyes and moaned under his breath.

_Christ._

“You can sleep now, y’know. It’s all done.”

_Don’t need my damn permission to go to sleep._

“’eel funny,” Jim slurred, his tongue not working properly.

Upon closer inspection, Jim wasn’t just shutting his eyes because he was tired—it looked to be something more. Excluding his pale features, his limbs were also slack and seemed to have laboured breathing.

Late reaction to the nitrous?

“S’alright buddy, think that’s jus’ the gas wearing off. You’ll feel better once it’s outta your system.”

Jim moaned under his breath again; a strained, complaining moan.

“weak…feel really…wwweak…”

The monitors displaying his vitals were showing absolutely nothing wrong with him.

Frowning, McCoy quickly snatched up the PADD from the tray and hovered it over Jim’s frail body.

_Beep-beep-beep._

He glanced at the PADD’s alert that the scan had finished, and rubbed his hand over his forehead.

“Jim, there’s nothing wrong with you,” he told him perplexedly, knowing full well himself that it was a lie. He could clearly see just from looking at the kid that something was wrong.

When Jim didn’t reply, McCoy stepped beside him, placing a hand on his forehead.

_Christ, he’s runnin’ one hell of a damn fever!_

_…Why aren’t the monitors saying anything?_

He quickly placed the PADD aside in favour of a fever reducer, popping the vial in and returning to Jim’s bedside.

“Either the monitor is broken or you’ve developed a psychic connection with technology,” Bones grumbled, hitting the hypo at home and tossing it into the disposal.

Immediately retrieving his PADD, he scowled.

_Temperature completely normal. What the hell?_

“…‘ones…”

He glanced up automatically at the small voice, swearing under his breath when he saw the kid was somehow drooling at the mouth. All the muscles had relaxed in his face.

Taking a scanner from the tray and hovering it over Jim, he waited for the inevitable—but it didn’t come. Because the scanner claimed he was completely normal.

Cursing, he dropped the instrument on the tray and stomped over to Jim’s bedside.

“Nurse!” he shouted out, hoping his voice would be heard from the closed door, not taking his eyes off Jim’s lax face.

“You couldn’t have had a reaction to the cryo-probe. Who the hell has a reaction to the cold? Or perhaps it was the drops? No…because then you’d be in pain,” he gritted his teeth and stared at the door, willing for it to open and for Chapel to walk through.

 

_Dammit._

_What the hell’s happenin’ to you?_

 

The door whooshed open, a dishevelled nurse Chapel parading through, clearly just about to take off for the today.

McCoy gestured at Jim, “He’s feverish, weak and the muscles in his face are lax, but the monitors aren’t showing anything at all.”

She nodded, whipping up a scanner from a tray and waltzing over to Jim.

“I’ve already tried that,” McCoy informed her, shaking his head, “All the technology is telling me he’s within normal parameters.”

Chapel frowned, placing the scanner back on the table and turning her head at Jim, “Someone might have tampered with the instruments?”

McCoy pushed past her and approached Jim, pressing two fingers against the carotid artery in his neck.

“Yeah, probably. His pulse is rapid and weak but the instruments say he’s at a normal sinus rhythm.”

The blonde nurse took a hold of Jim’s wrist, feeling for his pulse there and confirming her own theory.

Jim was still half-conscious and drooling on the bed, oblivious to everything around him.

“We need to do this without the help of technology,” McCoy concluded, storming over to the tray of instruments and wheeling it beside Jim, “Judging by the lax facial muscles it might be some kind of seizure, but we’ll have to rule it out.”

As concerning as this was, McCoy was a little relieved that he was able to use his own hands for diagnosis rather than the machines for once. It was old school, but he was an old school doctor, and he trusted his own hands over programmable technology.

“Take a full blood-spectrum and a full body scan,” he ordered, snatching a stethoscope from the tray of instruments and pushing the tips in his ears as fast as he could.

Jim began to focus a little more when seeing him with the device, but for the wrong reasons. Panic was evidently going to start swelling in his gut again, leaving McCoy to wonder if someone had purposefully disrupted the diagnostic machines.

He swiftly pressed the chest-piece on Jim’s skin, and immediately there was a response. Shaking fingers crept onto McCoy’s, weakly trying to pry them away from him, stopping the man from touching him.

But Jim was feeble in comparison, the pushing at his fingers a mere irritant.

“I know you don’t like it, Jim, just give me a minute,” he soothed, trying to concentrate on the way his patient’s heart was beating instead of the constant batting at his fingers.

“He’s tachycardic, when was the last blood panel?” he asked his nurse, instantly whipping the stethoscope off to give Jim some relief.

While placing the device back on the tray, his eyes were trained on Jim, and it brought him some comfort to see he was relaxing into the mattress again.

“Before the procedure,” Chapel replied, taking a blood sampler and quickly pressing it to Jim’s wrist, “It sounds like someone did this on purpose?”

McCoy nodded distractedly.

He had a strong feeling that the two bastards back down on Bovis had something to do with it. Jim falling ill and the monitors not working at the same time?

And what was it Jim said about them ‘putting something into him’?

He stalked back over to Jim, clasping his hands over his face to get his attention.

“Jim! What were you trying to tell me about Ruri putting something into you?”

The blonde blinked slowly, trying to decipher the information with his cognitive functions out the window.

The sampler _clicked_ as it was removed from his wrist, Jim’s eyes trying to follow Chapel as she moved, but gave up seconds later and continued gazing at the ceiling.

“Jim!” McCoy repeated, “ _What_ did they put _into_ you?”

He blinked sluggishly again, dribble still pooling out the side of his mouth.

If the monitors were working correctly, no doubt they would be screaming right now.

“mmm…m’head…” Jim slurred, his neck dropping to the side while his eyes shut.

“Your head? What did they put in your…? Nurse, get me a detailed scan of his head!”

Chapel was still trying to get an immediate result from the blood she just drew, “His brain?”

“No, _dammit_ , his _head_. It could be related to the blindness in his eye. In fact, run it on the left side.”

Chapel sounded uncomfortable, “I’m still waiting for the results of the blood to come through—”

“Then I’ll do the damn scan!” the doctor interrupted, nearly running to the other side of the room to enter a series of commands into the large medical panel.

Almost immediately, there was a loud _clunk_ as a cylinder tube was released from its dock and extended from Jim’s head down to his chest.

“What are you thinking?” Chapel called from the other side of the room. McCoy finished entering the commands and stormed back over to Jim’s side, half his body now encased in this machine.

“If they put a device in him, it could have a detection system that set off when I fixed his eye,” he spoke quickly, swiftly pressing buttons on the side of the machine to begin the scan.

“It’s possible the device is there to kill him if the sensor is dislocated, and disrupts the machinery in the room to trick it into registering different vital signs to not alert us that he’s dying.”

Jim was suddenly enveloped into a bright white light, quiet humming noises letting the doctor know that the scan had started. Despite his suspicions to the machinery, he was glad engineering advances meant that the technology was less noisy.

“If I’m right, and the device shows up, we can map out where they inserted it so I can surgically remove it.”

Chapel approached him while he was speaking, passing over to him a PADD with the blood results.

“There’s nothing here that would explain his weakness,” she told him, McCoy rapidly reading through the numbers and trying to find any anomaly, “But like you said, the information could be falsified by whatever has been implanted in his head.”

McCoy pursed his lips, handing the PADD back to her and scowling, “That’s _if_ there’s an implant in his head,” he flew over to the machine monitor and waited for the results. “He was doped up on drugs, he could say anything.”

Just as the images began generating on screen, the sound of a door whooshed open behind him.

McCoy spun on his heel, to see two people he didn’t recognise dressed in white-clad medical uniforms, a man and a woman.

“Doctor?” the female asked, glancing over to Jim and then back to the doctor again, “Doctor McCoy?”

He narrowed his eyes, and gave one quick look at the monitor before strolling up to his guests.

“Yeah? Who th’ hell let you in here?” he gestured behind him to the humming machine, “I’m in the middle of a procedure!”

The male human-looking person took a step forward, and upon focusing his furiously darting eyes, McCoy noticed something looked a little _off_ about their own green peekers.

“Apologies, doctor. I have permission to be here from Starfleet.”

McCoy bit his tongue and turned to the female, “And you?”

She shuffled over to the man, “I am with him.”

Oh, great. Just great. ‘Starfleet’ sent them here. ‘Starfleet’ sent them happily into the middle of a god damn operation because they wanted to show their authority. He’ll show those egotistical sons of bitc—

“We’re here for Captain,” the female pointed to the giant tube, “Starfleet wants us to take him to the main Starbase medbay.”

 

McCoy almost choked on his own saliva.

 

 _“What?”_ he spluttered, unsure of where to put his now flailing arms, “Take him to…? My god man, he can hardly function!”

The male nodded, “Precisely why we need to take him to a medical facility.”

McCoy would have hit them across the face with his elbow if it wasn’t for the fact he had a moral compass, “This _is_ a medical facility! And it’s…it’s ten times more equipped than a Starbase, damn it!”

The female looked towards the male again, and something in their eyes made them seem…suspicious. As if they were hiding something and were turning to the other to silently ask for what to say.

“I’m confident you’ll find that the Starbase medical facility has improved its facilities since your last visit,” the man stated, making his first stride towards his Captain and best friend.

“Wait, what…what the hell are you talkin’ about? It’s only been 3 months since we were last here!”

Both the man and woman grabbed Jim’s legs from under the tube machine, pulling him out, causing an alarm to go off from the sensors unfinished scan.

“The hell are you _doing_? You can’t just come in here and…hey! What the fuck are you doing?” he watched them as they marched out of the sickbay doors with an unconscious Jim slumped over the man’s shoulder, “Get the fuck back here you son of a bitch!”

 

 

 

* * *

 **Did you enjoy this piece of textual work? Do you desire it's continuation? It is only logical therefore to leave a kudos or comment.**  (please)

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is taken by his captors, and this time they want to finish the experiment they started.  
> (HEED THE WARNINGS)

**WARNING:**   **This is what the tags were warning about for 'later on in the story'. This chapter has mentions of accidental rape and a few graphic descriptions of surgery. It's also probably the angstiest thing I've ever written in my life.**

 

_The female looked towards the male again, and something in their eyes made them seem…suspicious. As if they were hiding something._

_“I’m confident you’ll find that the Starbase medical facility has improved its facilities since your last visit,” the man stated, making his first stride towards McCoy’s Captain and best friend._

_Both the man and woman grabbed Jim’s legs from under the cylinder machine, pulling him out, causing an alarm to go off from the sensors unfinished scan._

_He watched them as they marched out of the sickbay doors with an unconscious Jim slumped over the man’s shoulder, “Get the hell back here you son of a bitch!”_

* * *

 

Spock didn’t care what he looked like, he was an “emotionless” Vulcan  _running_ down the corridors in full-sprint, but the call from Doctor McCoy telling him that Starfleet had taken Jim, sent his emotions flying into extremes that his father would be ashamed of.

He saw a glimpse of McCoy in the distance, shouting what were likely obscenities at two humanoids that had taken off down the corridor with Jim slumped over the man’s shoulder.

Eventually he caught up with the ranting man, marching by his side, fighting off a rising urge to join in the aggressive behaviour when his eyes locked onto Jim’s figure in front of him.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, unable to look away from his Captain.

The two humanoids looked back, and after observing Spock, seemed to begin walking faster.

“Starfleet cannot order the removal of a superior officer without advance notice. It is a violation of regulation 294—”

“You’re a Vulcan, right?” the man called back, not turning around to face him.

Unphased by his rudeness, Spock succeeded in his attempts to remain calm in order to avoid provoking another incident, “Affirmative.”

McCoy spoke up, “What’s it to you?” it was clear the enraged man was having trouble keeping up.

“You’re interesting. We—”

The man stopped talking having been given the death glare by the female next to him.

He cleared his throat, “Apologises, I meant to say we have had experience with your kind.”

Spock resumed walking after them, gazing into space for a second, attempting to calculate a logical reason for why this humanoid would bring that up. It is common knowledge that humans have had experience with Vulcans, for quite a few hundred years now.

Unless…

He concluded, “You are not human?”

Once again, the woman glared up at the man, her staring clearly sending him into silence. At this point it was quite obvious they were hiding something, and were not as they seemed.

McCoy tried again, “Listen, we don’t want to get violent, hell, I’m a damn  _doctor_ , but you gotta let our Captain go, he’s not safe outside of the ship,” he pleaded to the unhearing intruders.

They were nearing the exit tunnel now, a bridge that covered the gap between the Enterprise exit and the entrance to the Starbase.

But the woman didn’t relent, “We’re under orders from Starfleet, we cannot come back to them empty-handed,” the doors to the walkway hissed open, and the woman turned back, “You must trust your superiors.”

The two humanoids continued their trek down the walkway while Spock and McCoy stared on, until the door stopped registering their presence and hissed shut in front of them.

After a moment, McCoy turned to Spock with pure human worry plastered on his face, “What the hell do we do now?”

* * *

 

You might have expected Jim to first awaken, realise that he’s not with his friends anymore and start fighting his newfound captors.

But nope. It was never that simple.

Jim stirred, somewhat lethargically, after hearing a loud  _clunk_ off to his right.

It was a similar sound to what he heard when he was…inside a tube? If he didn’t know any better, he might as well have been dreaming.

He wasn’t certain what he’d been through the past day or so; he remembered finding it difficult to form a sentence when trying to speak to Bones, but everything after that was a fragmented haze.

Now, his mind was more on-the-ball, he could focus much better, but the environment felt…different. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that.

“James?”

But clearly whoever he was with had a way of knowing he was awake.

“It’s just us. Or, well, me. Cadel has disappeared again, leaving me with you…again…”

_…Cadel…?_

“It’s almost like he doesn’t want to be part of it, this happened last time too…you can open your eyes, you know, I can tell you’re awake.”

Slowly, Jim released a strained groan from his lips, detesting the idea of moving his eyelids and allowing light to seep through his eyes, but curiosity got the better of him.

Cracking open heavy eyelids, the first thing Jim noticed was the fact that there was a woman standing over him, and he was lying down. Again.

He felt like he recognised the woman, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it…

“Wher’m’I?” Jim rasped out, no desire to even move his head.

His fingers twitched when he thought about how drained he was.

“You’re in what I guess is Starfleet medical? I don’t know, apparently it’s a Starbase and I asked to take you to Starfleet medical, but I’m pretty sure they just pointed to the nearest facility and lied about the name to shut me up,” she narrowed her eyes as if expecting a reply, then moved to the back of his head.

“…ugh…why…” if he had an ounce of ego left, Jim was pretty sure he’d be embarrassed by that tone of voice.

She just seemed to shrug above him, “We told your Starfleet we would deal with them on the condition we could finish our experiment on yourself.”

Jim slowly allowed his eyes to shut, “And…they…allowed it?”

“There was only one guy we spoke to, he seemed to think it was fine,” she justified, disappearing from his line of sight again, “Gave us uniforms and everything so we could come and get you.”

Oh, that was great. So…Starfleet decided that he was disposable, then. Plonk a starship Captain in a closed-off medical room, experiment on him until he dies and get a ‘free’ membership with planet Bovis.

Awesome.

“Hate…my superiors,” he grunted, increasingly aware of a burning sensation in his legs, “Not that…it matters…gonna…die anyway…”

Surprisingly, the woman,  _Ruri,_  just scoffed and stared at him as if he said something absurd, “I’m not…wow, I’m not going to kill you, James, what makes you think that?”

Huh.

He frowned, twisting his aching neck to the side, “You’re experimenting on me…’til I die…no?”

She laughed at him, “I’ll try not to kill you, James, but that’s not my intent,” she said seriously, “If I’m done and you live, you can saunter off for all I care, but the information on your human body is priceless to our people.”

Unable to gather a response, Jim couldn’t find it in him to speak, and deciding to sit up and get a better look of the room.

Until he fell back against the table again.

“Ugh…why’m’I so damn weak?” he blinked away his hazy vision, the throbbing in his thighs becoming more noticeable now, then attempted to sit up again.

It then became obvious to him, that the fact that his legs were hoisted up in stirrups and pulled wide apart, were the reason his thighs were burning so bad.

He slumped back on the table and groaned.

“…Hey man…what’s with the gynaecology exam? I’m not a female, y’know…”

It was a joke, but Ruri seemed generally interested.

“Female?” she enquired, bringing out what looked like the Bovis version of PADD.

“Yeah…it’s like…I’m male…I don’t need my…y’know…looked at…it’s a joke…cuz’ I don’t have one…” he sighed, “Damn…this is awkward…”

Ruri craned her neck to the side and began typing into her PADD.

“I thought all of your species had the same biological organs,” she mused, moving to the front of the bed and holding the device out, “An interesting image to add to the database.”

Jim snorted loudly, suddenly extremely uncomfortable and tried to move his legs, but they were locked into the restraints.

“Come on man…” he grunted half-heartedly, “No pictures…not without payment…” he tried to make the situation laughable. He wasn’t sure if it was because Ruri had doped him up on drugs or if he generally didn’t care anymore.

Either way, right now, he felt pretty trippy.

“I believe you’ve solved one of the problems I have with the human body,” she informed him, typing some more into the PADD, “I once examined my first and only human a few years ago, on the first attempt before your people banished me. On the scan, their organs were slightly different to the ones your scan showed me.”

Jim blinked, not sure how to reply to this extremely intimate conversation with his captive.

“At first, I thought your body was dysfunctional to the first human I had, so I was going to see what the problem was. And you’re saying this is normal of the human body?”

Jim pursed his lips and clenched his jaw.

“Look man, can you just get me out of these restraints? It’s a really intimate position, you know, it’s really…like really inappropriate.”

Ruri looked hurt, “I apologise, is it delicate to your culture?”

Jim wanted to slam his head into the table…if only he had the energy to move it.

“This is a new organ, I would like to look at it.”

Jim only saw red, and panicked, “You  _are_ looking at it! And I want it to  _stop!_ Get me out of these  _damn things!”_ he kicked at the restraints, straining against the cuffs and trying to get his legs free but they remained spread apart in the air.

Ruri approached him cautiously, “Your respiration has increased significantly. Perhaps you are growing distressed?”

Jim spat out in anger, “ _Yes I’m growing distressed!”_

She placed the PADD aside in favour for what Jim assumed was a hypo, “Perhaps you would prefer to remain unconscious?”

Jim’s eyes went wide, “ _NO!”_

Ruri stepped back at that, apparently shocked with Jim’s sudden violent behaviour. She glanced at the hypospray for a second, then back to Jim.

“I do not want for you to be uncomfortable in my care.”

Jim bulked, “In your  _care?_ Woman you don’t…you don’t understand what you’re doing!”

Frowning, Ruri quickly whipped her PADD back up and disposed of the hypo, walking away to the other side of the room.

Jim was slightly calmer now that Ruri had left, but he was still in a position that only brought flashbacks and sent his heart thudding in his chest.

He was able to overhear his captive talking through their PADD.

“Yes Cadel, I am with James now. He says the organs we thought were malfunctioning are supposed to be there.”

A staticky reply, “That is excellent news. Another mystery of the human body solved. Have you examined the organ closely? What is its function? It was not located in the other human.”

“I struggle, Cadel. He is distressed, and has began fighting on my table. I offered for him to sleep but he merely screamed in the negative. What do I do?”

“It is possible this organ causes the human painful sensations. I will be there, ensure that he is kept calm.”

By the time Ruri set her PADD aside and turned back around to face Jim, he was already wheezing through sheer panic. His bare skin began forming goosebumps, and he shuddered at the thought of someone going near him in his vulnerable position.

It brought unwanted memories of home…of Frank.

“I apologise for your distress,” she said quietly, “I am unsure with how to proceed, so Cadel will take over from me. He has more experience with humans than I do.”

_Oh no._

_Oh god._

_Nonononono…_

_This is just like Frank all over again._

“Please…just…please, get my legs out of these restraints,” he begged, kicking once more to illustrate his point, “I won’t fight you, I swear, you can pin my legs to the table but  _please_ get me out of this position…”

He had reverted to a quivering blabbering mess now; his mind was firing images from his past  _experience_ with Frank at full throttle.

She generally looked sad, “I apologise…I cannot. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep? I can make sure you won’t—”

“ _GET ME OUT OF THESE FUCKING RESTRAINTS!”_ he screamed hoarsely, bucking and thrashing on the table like a trapped scared animal.

Or, in Ruri’s eyes, he  _was_ a trapped scared animal.

Soon—too soon, the double doors whoosed open from behind him, and Jim couldn’t  _see_ because he couldn’t move, and in came Cadel, the shoulder that he had been slumped over.

He nodded towards Ruri and picked up the hypo that she had discarded on the tray.

“ _Why the hell are you doing this!?”_ he screamed wildly, trying to move his arms to smack the hypo out of the man’s hands, but they didn’t budge, “You  _can’t_ do this! This is  _wrong!”_

“Relax, James, there isn’t anything you can do about it now, after all,” the man soothed, as the doors hissed shut, leaving just he and Jim in the room together.

“Yes there  _is,”_ he growled through gritted teeth, “You can let me  _go.”_

Cadel merely shook his head at him, pressing the hypo into Jim’s neck, and as much as Jim fought and strained against it, the medication was released.

“You will remain awake, I don’t want to damage you,” he explained, as Jim’s limbs lost their energy all in one second. He slumped back against the table, vulnerable, scared and exposed.

“They couldn’t have allowed you to do this…” Jim mumbled, his head lulling left and right as he tried to stay awake, “They couldn’t…”

He heard the grating sound of metal as Cadel seated himself on a stool parallel to Jim’s groin.

Jim tried to come up with an escape plan, if that were even possible at this stage, but the sound of his captor snapping on gloves sent a sickening nauseating feeling to his gut.

“I think you have an admiral that is corrupt,” he heard the other man say, the sound of metal clashing together as he fumbled for an instrument, while Jim could only stare at the ceiling “If it really is this bad, they would not have allowed me to do this, like you said.”

Jim blinked sluggishly, jolting when he felt a smooth glove brush past his thigh.

“Either that or they don’t care.”

Jim furrowed his eyebrows at that, “Don’t care…? My crew care about me…they’re…my crew…”

He heard the man snort, “Clearly not,” and he sucked in a breath when something cold was pressed into his opening.

“ _Shit,”_ Jim hissed through clenched teeth, squirming as if it would make a difference.

“Exactly. If I Captain’d a starship like yours and found my crew would find me expendable, I’d feel like that too.”

Jim’s fingers were clenched yellow around the armrests, breathing shakily through his nose, “That’s not…what I meant…you bast— _fuck!”_

“Well, then, what  _did_  you mean?” Cadel asked casually, as if shoving a probe up someone’s backside was something he did every day.

Jim was quiet for a few moments, considering what Cadel was trying to tell him.

“…Bones left me?” he croaked, his fingers shaking for two different reasons.

“Apparently so.”

“…Bones left me…”

“Yes.”

“…can you please stop…?”

“No.”

“…please?”

“No. Be quiet.”

So, in silence, Jim remained slack on the table, allowing his…captor, to violate him, putting his hands all over his most private possession, as if a willing participant in his own torture.

He endured everything he was subjected to, mostly because he knew from this point on, he wasn’t worthy of anything anymore.

The Enterprise was all he had. His crew were his family, Spock and Bones were his closest friends.

But they had allowed his previous torturers to saunter onto the ship, take him and experiment on him while they flew off with a new captain in tow.

He felt empty, a void in his chest, heavy eyes from the strained burning feeling of wanting to cry but holding it back, because he didn’t want to show even more weakness than what had already escaped him.

After half an hour had gone, the feeling was becoming so routine, and Jim was becoming so tired, that his eyes began to close, sleep calling out to him.

 

Jim didn’t actually intend to sleep.

He thought about it, but it was the last thing he remembered thinking about before passing out on the table.

Coming around once again, he felt a little more at peace.

He was coming to terms with his situation now; yes he would be stuck here and people were going to use him as a guinea pig, but they weren’t trying to harm him on purpose.

He certainly wasn’t  _safe,_ but going by his previous list of kidnappers, it could be worse. Much worse.

Feeling how sore his lips were, Jim started to lick them, before pausing when his tongue met a strange feeling in his mouth.

Automatically blinking open his eyes in shock, his tongue stuck outside his lip like a cat, before running it across his mouth again.

He frowned, and glanced up to find someone to give him an explanation.

Across the room, he saw Ruri, sitting on a chair on her own, hunched up and reading off a PADD-like device. In fact, it dawned upon him that his legs weren’t hoisted up in stirrups anymore.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he slumped his head back on the table, shutting his eyes and completely forgetting about the strange feeling in his mouth, just glad that he wasn’t exposed anymore.

Unfortunately, that seemed to have gained the attention of Ruri.

“James,” he heard, footsteps quickly tapping towards him, “I am so sorry.”

Confused, Jim forced his eyelids open again, to see that the humanoid female looking creature towering above him actually looked…guilty? There was just something in her eyes that gave it away.

Jim swallowed hard, preparing to say something but his throat was so dry. The guilty look on his torturers face didn’t change.

He frowned, confused at the sudden guilt, “…why…?”

Ruri met his expression, eyebrows furrowing so deep that it’d make Bones proud, before staring at the wall.

“I was unsure of why you reacted how you did, James,” she hugged the PADD close to her chest and fidgeted with restless legs, “When I left, I researched human ethics, and discovered that on your world, what we did…would be considered as… _as rape_ ,” she said the last two words quickly, as if not wanting to admit it herself.

She was watching him carefully, waiting for a reply.

“Well, I, um…” how does he respond to this? She was claiming it was accidental. “I did tell you to stop, but you guys did it anyway.”

She dipped her head, avoiding eye contact, “I assumed it was genuine fear. Being examined by a stranger that has you unable to move would be frightening for most cultures…I just…I assumed it was that…”

Jim bit his lip, and turned his head towards his left arm. His limbs were still bound down to the table. Clearly, despite her attempts to apologise, they had no plans to let him free any time soon.

“Did you…get what you needed to know from it?”

Jim didn’t miss how her hands squeezed tighter around the PADD.

“Yes. We understand the reason for the differing organs now, thanks to you. I’d let you go, but…Cadel says he isn’t finished yet.”

Jim felt the colour drain from his face, “You mean you’re gonna do it again?”

Ruri’s eyes went wide, and she shook her head rapidly, “No! No, no, I mean, other parts of your human anatomy have not been studied yet. Cadel would like to finish.”

He slowly closed his eyes, “And I assume you’re gonna do what you did last time, just cut me open and rummage around ‘til you’re satisfied.”

From the darkness, he heard a quiet nervous scoff, to his surprise.

“No, I…I refuse to continue. I feel ashamed. It was a violation of your human rights, and I cannot morally allow myself to continue the exam. Cadel however doesn’t seem to care…”

Jim replied in what could be passed as a nod in his restrained condition, knowing that whatever Cadel was going to do to him, it couldn’t be any worse than what he experienced earlier.

Releasing a long sigh, his tongue caught in his mouth again, and he frowned at the reminder.

“Uh…look, I’ve got this weird feeling in my mouth, what did you do?” he casually changed the subject.

Ruri stopped staring at the wall and focused intensely on Jim, before her eyes lit up in realisation. “Oh! Cadel took a sample of the white substance in what you call your mouth.”

Jim snorted, completely oblivious to what she just said.

He knew she meant a tooth, but the innuendo generator imbedded in his brain tried to make him think of this ‘white substance’ as something else.

“What I  _call_ my mouth? The hell do you call it then?”

She raised an eyebrow, “We call it the objdenjitive.”

Jim blinked.

“I’ll stick with mouth.”

For a few seconds, Jim was blissfully unaware of the fact that one of his tooth were now probably sitting in a jar for ‘study purposes’.

 

For like, ten seconds.

 

Instantaneously, he shot forward and caused a massive  _clash_ on the restraints.

“You yanked out my  _tooth?”_ he yelled in disbelief, startling Ruri who almost dropped her PADD.

She stuttered and shook her head, “It wasn’t me! It was Cadel!” she defended herself, scurrying away back towards her chair.

“What else do you want? My fuckin’  _kidney_!?”

Ruri cleverly didn’t reply, just kept her PADD clutched to her chest and watched him tentatively.

Great. Now when he tries to charm Spock with a seductive smile; all he’s gonna notice is a giant hole in his mouth.

_If they ever came back for him._

Jim huffed, “Well, come on then,” he flapped his hand in dismissal, “Just do whatever you need to do so I can get out of these damn restraints.”

The cuffs were beginning to tear away at his skin from being rubbed against it too hard.

Ruri observed him for a minute, and very slowly got out of her chair, placing the PADD aside and hastily leaving the room.

 

Well, at least he was flat on his back now, whatever Cadel wanted to bring upon him couldn’t be any worse than the assault from earlier.

Whoever it was at Starfleet that had accepted this was really fucked up in the head.

 

While Ruri seemed quite withdrawn, apologetic and timid, Cadel was the complete opposite.

He burst into the room, PADD under his arm, and seated himself beside Jim’s shoulder, not bothering to even offer eye contact.

Jim vaguely heard the whooshing sound of the door closing, his eyes still completely trained on his other torturer beside him, who at the moment seemed busy reading from his PADD.

“We gonna get this done or what?” he spat, rattling the restraints just to vent his frustration at the man.

Ruri seemed to be absolutely oblivious to what they had done earlier and had the conscience not to get involved again.

Cadel however, didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass, and continued on with a demeanour worse than Bones in a bad mood.

“We will begin when I am ready,” the man hissed back at the screen, scrolling through what was probably lashings of information about what he had learnt about Jim’s body so far.

“Tell me, James, how did your eye regain vision?” Cadel turned away from his PADD and stared at Jim, waiting for a reply.

“My doctor fixed it,” Jim shrugged, squinting with his newly-working eye, “Dunno how that affects your implant though,”

Cadel tutted and turned back to his PADD, “We have lost signal with the implant due to your  _doctor_ meddling with your eye,” he muttered, then quickly placed the PADD aside, “You don’t have healing properties?”

Jim nearly laughed but it came out more as a snort, “ _No,_ as I said, my doctor did something…and fixed it,” he paused, “He drugged me to hell, I don’t know anything.”

“Strange,” Cadel twisted his neck, glancing at the PADD on the table but turning back to Jim, “Upon examining your jaw, I discovered teeth that have previously been there and been replaced. This is not a healing property?”

_So that’s why he yanked a damn tooth out._

“No.” he said simply.

Cadel continued, “And previous scar tissue that has been replaced rapidly with regenerators. This is not a healing property?”

Jim wanted to smack the guy, “ _Yes,_ that’s a healing property. Skin can heal. Some muscles can heal. I don’t know dude, I’m a captain, not a doctor!”

“So, your teeth cannot heal themselves or grow anew.”

“No. We have 2 sets of teeth and they grow in at a certain age. All of us.”

Cadel nodded, “I have extracted one tooth, another one will not grow in its place?”

Jim narrowed his eyes, “No.” he spat.

He didn’t seem to a care, “A pity. But I am sure your doctor can conjure up something,” before Jim could reply, the man reached off to the side and pulled over a new silver tray of instruments. “I will now commence my final examination.”

Jim rolled his eyes.

“Can’t wait.”

What could the man possibly have in store for him this time?

Cadel swiftly stood up, grasped a folded up green sheet and lay it out over Jim’s bare chest, from his collarbone to his pelvis.

It felt like silk to his skin, and it was cold.

“So, uh…where’s your friend gone?” Jim asked, attempting to talk about something while Cadel unnervingly started working around him.

Cadel grasped the ends of the silk sheet and began clamping it under the table at all corners, “She wants no part of this,” he replied, finishing clamping the top half of the sheet under the table until the sheet was tight and unwrinkled over Jim’s body.

“We will wait several minutes for the material to mould.”

_Mould?_

“What is this, stretchy clay?” he joked, wincing when he suddenly felt the cool silk begin to wrap around his thick shoulders.

“No, it is a sterile sheet that moulds to the subject’s body.”

Jim had heard of memory foam mattresses, but this was ridiculous. It was rapidly moulding itself around Jim’s body.

“This is weird,” he retorted, his feet tingling when the silk moulded into shape.

“Your medical technology is inferior. I am surprised your doctor successfully managed to disrupt the implant,” Cadel answered stiffly, watching Jim like a hawk, “You are the second person out of nine-hundred-and-sixty-four to be able to disrupt it.”

Jim balked, “You’ve done this to nine-hundred-and-sixty-four people!?”

Cadel strolled to the other side of the bed, “Yes, sixty-five percent have died.”

Jim felt his blood run cold at that.

“What great odds,” he retorted sarcastically.

Cadel glared at him icily, “You are terribly witty for someone about to undergo extreme pain.”

Jim rolled his eyes, and was about to rattle his restraints again before he realised he couldn’t move at all.

He was paralysed from the neck down.

Suddenly, his heart was in his throat, and his pulse was racing, “What the hell have you done? Why can’t I move?” he panicked, trying and failing to move something—anything. Not even his toes responded.

Cadel was unphased, “The material contains a paralytic to keep the subject immobile.”

Jim wanted to throw up, “I’m not a  _subject,_ you know, I’m a real fuckin’  _person!”_

Bones was going to be so pissed off with them both.

Or, he would be, if he still cared.

And considering Jim was about to be opened up like a dead lab-rat, it was quite clear he didn’t care.

Cadel didn’t bother to reply, and simply run his finger along Jim’s knee, testing how well the sheet had moulded.

He nodded to himself, ripping some gloves out from a box and probably, judging by Jim’s wincing, snapped the gloves on as loud and intimidatingly as he possibly could.

It was like the man had a grudge against Jim or something.

“I would not worry, going by how you have dealt with this so far, it is very likely you will survive to the end of the experiment, where I will then set you free.”

Jim shut his eyes and grunted, “Goodie.”

He heard the sound of metal clashing, similar to what he heard before Cadel’s previous exam, and out of curiosity, opened his eyes, to see Cadel coming at him with a gag.

_Shit._

“Wait—wait, wait, stop, wait, wait,  _waiiii!—"_

Cadel glared down at Jim, while the blonde’s shouting was muffled by something plastic shoved into his mouth.

“I told you it would be painful, and as much as it will please me, I don’t want to upset Ruri by hearing you scream for an hour,” he snapped, frowning at the gag that was slightly too big for Jim’s mouth, making his cracked lips bleed from being stretched too much.

Satisfied that this wasn’t dangerous, Cadel headed back over to his tray of instruments and picked up a scalpel.

Jim stared wildly at him, eyes blown wide as he watched with his paralysed body, until Cadel marched over and dug the scalpel into the sheet.

Jim screamed.

* * *

 

Ruri knew this was wrong.

Cadel had a personal distaste against Jim for ruining the implant that only one person out of over nine-hundred had ruined.

It was bad enough the innocent human had been sexually violated, by Cadel no less, and now the man himself was back in there with the creature, not to mention angry with him.

In the past, they had strived to make other creatures comfortable, or at the very least sedated, until the experiment was finished and the creatures would be released. It’s like what the people of Earth do, they catch a fish and release it later.

Information was important to them, they’d catch a new specie, lay them on their table, conduct their experiment, upload the information to their world-wide database and let them go. It is acceptable within the Bovian scientific government.

When people wanted to alias with their planet, usually for their extremely advanced technologies, they didn’t even  _need_ to catch someone, they would offer themselves up for it.

But this creature was different. This  _human_ couldn’t tolerate their ethics and their methods of research.

All of a sudden, Ruri was ripped out of her thoughts as a muffled scream tore through the metal door, sending shivers down her spine and nausea to her stomach.

Her eyes locked onto the door, unable to look away while a constant, hoarse scream made her want to crumble on the inside.

Cadel obviously was not going by procedure. Subjects were always either sedated or put to sleep for this stage, and clearly out of spite, Cadel had left Jim wide awake and stuffed something in his mouth to stifle his screaming.

She was sympathetic to the human, she really was. This was never usually how these experiments would go, and she so terribly wished that Cadel would stop torturing the poor human out of spite. She couldn’t imagine how scared the human must be feeling.

She sat and listened for another whole minute of endless screaming, when suddenly he heard the voice of Cadel roar  _SHUT UP_ over Jim’s own yelling.

There was silence for perhaps ten seconds, before the noise started again, but this time it was a tearful scream for help.

Having heard enough of this, she untensed herself and tried to hunch her shoulders up, marching towards the room and waiting for it to hiss open.

 

Inside the room, was the typical view of what it would look like, only there was the extra noise of the human’s distress over the top.

Both Cadel and Jim were beetroot red, Jim from his screaming, and Cadel from his rage.

As per usual, there was a green silky sheet moulded over the subject body, a huge incision in the chest about 7 inches long, pulled apart and gaining Cadel easy access to the subject’s internal organs. The only problem was, the subject was still awake.

“Cadel,” she muttered to him over Jim’s choking noises, “This is against all scientific code of conduct for Bovis. This is illegal, and immoral.”

Her furious friend shook his head, continuing to roam around inside the subject’s body, no doubt noting the anatomy of the organs and their placement.

“Our implants cost hundreds of thousands of bovanian finance, this will surely teach future subjects that destroying the implant is not acceptable behaviour.”

Ruri’s heart thudded in her chest as the moaning from the human became strained and weaker.

“Regardless, you’re going to kill him if you keep this up. He won’t be able to take it,” she warned him, glancing towards Jim, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Many have died during this experiment, if he dies too, then so be it.”

Ruri shook her head at him, “Cadel, he is only human. The creature is clearly in extreme pain, you must stop causing him to suffer out of spite!”

Cadel stopped staring at Jim’s insides for a second and glared at Ruri, “This is one creature out of nine hundred. What’s so special that you care about the feelings of this one?”

Ruri paused, gazing at Jim as if to find the answer. The human was only crying at this point, clearly growing too weak to shout any louder.

“He is similar to us,” she said carefully, turning her head back to him slowly, “Have you not noticed? Their appearance is similar, if not for their darker eyes and strange objdenjitive structure,” she tried to plead with him, and silently grew some hope when Cadel stopped staring ragefully and slowly turned to face Jim too.

The human’s strained moaning was beginning to grow louder again.

“You must stop hurting him, Cadel…ruining our implant was the mistake of his doctor, who only wanted to fix his eye.”

For one shining moment, Ruri thought that she had actually gotten through to her rageful friend.

But after a couple more seconds, he merely shook his head, said “I must discover the meaning for his two kidneys,” and consequently rammed the incision wider.

Instantaneously, a hoarse scream tore through the room, a mix of a shriek of pain and fear, until finally she decided that she had made her decision.

She stormed out of the room, not missing the glimpse of tearful, begging blue eyes that were gazing pleadingly at her as the door hissed shut.

 

Then, in the far distance, the shouting of men could be heard growing closer in the corridors.

* * *

 **Did you enjoy this piece of textual work? Do you desire it's continuation? It is only logical therefore to leave a kudos or comment.**  (please)

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is found by the Enterprise, but he's in a much worse state than they imagined him to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I've had a pretty shit week so would really like a nice comment? 

_Jim’s strained moaning was beginning to grow louder again._

_“You must stop hurting him, Cadel…ruining our implant was the mistake of his doctor,”_

_For one shining moment, Ruri thought that she had actually gotten through to her rageful friend._

_“I must discover the meaning for his two kidneys,” and he consequently wrenched the incision wider._

_Instantaneously, a hoarse scream tore through the room. She made her decision._

_She stormed out of the room, not missing the glimpse of tearful, begging blue eyes that were gazing pleadingly at her as the door hissed shut._

_Then, in the far distance, the shouting of men could be heard growing closer in the corridors._

* * *

While the rest of the landing party fanned out, McCoy stood hunched over with his fingers gripped so firm over his PADD that he was close to breaking it.

He had spoken to Starfleet, or rather _yelled_ at them with a stoic Vulcan in tow, demanding an explanation for his closest friend being carried off by two strangers that had stormed onto the Enterprise.

Apparently, Starfleet had absolutely nothing to do with it and the individuals had lied to get on board.

The building looked like an endless sea of corridors, and although was widely unused by Starfleet nowadays, was still brightly lit by overhead LED lights.

Now they just had to find which room Jim was in.

Clutching his PADD, McCoy slowly looked down to it, waiting for the disconnected vitals to suddenly blink back to life again. It was a far-fetched dream, but all he wanted was to see that his friend was okay.

A commanding voice boomed several doors away, “Doctor.”

Glancing back up, McCoy tucked his PADD back under his arm and strode quickly towards the location of the voice.

Spock was with two of the five other landing party members, all of them looking stern and ready to jump whoever had taken Jim.

“You found him?” McCoy asked hopefully, knowing that judging by the lack of excitement on his fellow crew members faces, they hadn’t.

“Negative, however my tricorder has begun to pick up life readings approximately 0.43 miles away,” the Vulcan read from the device, then glanced back up at the doctor.

“Uh-huh, and how many life-signs are there?”

Spock didn’t need to check, “Three. This could account for the two humanoids and the Captain.”

McCoy nodded to himself, and whipped out the PADD from under his arm, checking to see if Jim’s vitals had been picked up yet.

They hadn’t.

“There is no need to concern yourself, doctor,” Spock told him, a notch quieter than usual. Only the people closest to the guy would think he was trying to be sympathetic. “The Captain’s life-signs are registering on my tricorder, we do at least have the knowledge that he is still alive.”

McCoy nodded wordlessly. Yes, Jim was alive, but was he suffering? Or was he just taken as a hostage?

“Thanks, Spock, but we don’t know if he’s safe,” McCoy murmured, “If he was just thrown into a damn cell then at least there ain’t danger, but if they’re doing their experiments again, he could be hurt.”

Something in Spock’s eyes changed for a second; a moment of worry slipped past his mask before setting his face in stone again.

“We will continue to search for him, and will alert you of our findings accordingly.”

Sighing, McCoy shoved his PADD under his armpit again before striding past Spock, storming down the corridors.

“He’s gotta be in _one_ of these damn rooms.”

Large quick steps followed his, “May I remind you doctor, that it is dangerous to walk these corridors alone.”

McCoy paused, shutting his eyes for a second and shaking his head, knowing that the damn Vulcan was right.

He was a doctor; his medical knowledge would be of no use to him if someone were to attack him on his own.

Suddenly, a loud pained heartwrenching scream tore through the corridor, resonating off the walls and sending McCoy’s heart to his gut.

_Oh fuck…_

_That sounded like Jim…_

He turned around rapidly, wanting to see how Spock would react, but almost jumped out of his skin when the Vulcan was already catapulting past him without a word, following the sound of the scream.

McCoy ran after him, “C’mon!” he bellowed over his shoulder to the crew behind him.

Multiple shouts of determined security guards shadowed his footsteps, all seven of them tearing through the corridors.

* * *

 

Ruri jumped out of her seat at the sound of pounding footsteps—Starfleet must have finally realised they didn’t have permission to be here, and _she_ was the one that was going to get the blame for it.

The screaming from the room opposite her had stopped, leaving her to believe the worst. The human, James, was likely dead.

“ _Hey, you!”_ a demanding voice shouted from the distance, the rapid heavy falls of boots drawing closer, “ _You’re one of the bastards that took Jim!”_

Slowly, she clenched her fists and turned to face the shouting, spotting two of the men that had chased after them earlier.

Without hesitation, and having a certain protection over the human that she would never admit, she pointed to the door opposite her and stepped back. “He’s in there!”

All men came to a halt outside the door.

The one whom she recognised as Vulcan was just unnervingly staring at her stoically; she crossed her arms over her chest as she grew uncomfortable.

“I’m serious, your friend is in there,” Ruri repeated, gesturing to the door with her head but not wanting to remove her comforting arms from her chest, “You best be quick, he has grown quiet.”

The other blue shirt next to the Vulcan gritted his teeth and took a quick step towards the door, his hand on the access panel, but the alien man grabbed his wrist before he could enter.

“It could be a trap, we must survey the room before you enter,” the Vulcan droned quietly, as if to evade Ruri from hearing it.

The other man had obviously grown impatient, his eyes flicking from the alien to the door and shaking his head, “ _Spock_ …he could be _seriously_ injured—”

“Doctor, I cannot permit you to enter until the room has been deemed safe. Please remain here until you are summoned.”

Ruri hated Vulcans. And from the look of this doctor’s face, she wasn’t the only one.

He couldn’t fault the guy—Cadel was still in there with James, with a dozen of sharp tools at his disposal and he wouldn’t hesitate to attack the human’s friends to keep his experiment his own.

“Fine,” the seething man hissed, removing his hand from the panel, “But you best be outta there in ten seconds or I’m going in, regardless of whether there’s a damn automatic photon torpedo lodged into the wall.”

With a single raised eyebrow, the Vulcan turned away, giving Ruri another split second of a death stare before barging into the room, followed by the other five security guards.

* * *

 

They were probably in there for all of six seconds, before phaser fire lit the room up blue, a loud _clash_ meant that _someone_ had gone down, and shortly afterwards a red-shirted female stumbled out of the room, gagging and throwing her hand over her mouth.

McCoy hurled himself into action immediately, knowing whatever was in that room was something sickening, and the thought of it sent a knot forming in his already nervous gut.

Storming into the room, he froze immediately when laying eyes on Jim—something he had never done in his life.

_“My god…”_

His closest friend was laid out on a table, his arms pinned to their sides with a giant hole in his gut, exposing the inside of his chest.

 

Now he knew why that ensign looked like she was going to throw up.

 

His eyes rapidly searched for danger, and came across a figure on the floor, noticing it to be the man earlier that had Jim slumped over his shoulder when carrying him away.

Judging by the fact he was sprawled out on the floor and probably unconscious, it was safe to say he could get to work without there being any danger.

Jumping to Jim’s side, McCoy was both distraught and relieved to see that the baby blues were still open and staring at him, blonde hair matted and stuck to his pale and sweaty face.

_Christ…the hell has this bastard done to you?_

He wordlessly spilled the content of his medkit onto the tray, grabbing the first sedative that Jim wasn’t allergic to and clicking it into the hypospray.

“You’re okay now, Jim, I promise,” he murmured into his ear, pressing the hypo against his neck, not being entirely sure himself that he was telling the truth.

McCoy swiftly pulled the gag out of Jim’s mouth and chucked it onto the floor next to Cadel.

Jim spluttered at the newfound freedom, then moaned in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the noises escape his lips.

“I know, I know,” McCoy mumbled, picking out another vial, of painkillers this time, and sliding that into the hypospray instead.

“ _Huuuurts,”_ Jim moaned, his voice hoarse and like sandpaper, probably unused for so long.

“I know…damn it, I know,” McCoy depressed the plunger into Jim’s neck and waited for the pain lines in the kid’s face to soften out.

But it didn’t.

“ _Boooones…_ ”

McCoy glared at the hypo’s contents, “Damn it to hell, why the _hell_ isn’t this thing workin’?”

His head shot round to one of the security guards, “Contact the Enterprise, get them to beam down a portable blood bank and an emergency surgical kit!”

The guards all looked between each other before someone finally snatched up their communicator in a hurry, nearly dropping it, and hurled it open.

“ _Pleeeease…”_

“Shush, Jim, I know, just hold on…”

As he loaded yet another cartridge up, Jim released another sob that sent McCoy’s heart to his throat.

“I know…I know it hurts, m’ just try’na find somethin’ that’s gonna work…”

While Jim continued moaning, McCoy pressed the third hypo against Jim’s neck and waited for a sign that his pain was at least somewhat relieved.

As horrific as it was, having the restraints in place were probably the only thing keeping Jim alive. Having his arms bound in a T shape beside him was stopping any movement that could cause a massive bleed in the open incision.

“ _Bones—pleeease…make it stoooop!”_

Grunting, McCoy tossed yet another empty vial away and tried to think of what else to do.

He glanced up at Spock, who was hovering on the opposite side of the bed.

“Spock, I…” his arms flailed in confusion “I don’t know what to do. He isn’t responding to any of the drugs.”

Slowly, Spock looked down at Jim’s squirming form and watched, his nostrils flaring in anger before turning and marching out the door.

No doubt he was going after Ruri.

“—We need her _alive,_ Spock!” the doctor shouted after him, not looking away from Jim.

_God damn it._

He glanced up and made eye contact with one of the security guards.

“ _Make sure he doesn’t kill her_ ,” he demanded with fierce eyes, watching as the redshirt immediately hurried after the Vulcan.

Another one stepped forward, the one that had called the Enterprise a few minutes ago.

“Sir, the Enterprise said medical is gathering the blood bank but it’ll take a while to sterilize it.”

Sighing, McCoy shook his head in denial of the situation, pushing himself up from the table and gazing down at Jim’s body.

What was he supposed to do?

The kid wouldn’t pass out, and nothing seemed to alleviate his pain. He didn’t want his own fingers suturing to be the reason for Jim’s agony.

_“Bones…”_

He winced.

“God, I _know,_ Jim, just…just hold on,” he murmured, turning on his heel and desperately searching for something; _anything,_ to help.

Clenching his jaw, McCoy whipped the medical scanner out of his bag and flipped it on, hovering it over Jim.

“What about the emergency surgical kit? Somethin’ is keeping him alive, dunno what it is…” his gazed focused on the skin-tight cloth on Jim’s body.

The green sheet that seemed to be moulded to Jim’s figure was definitely more than tight silky material. It was letting off some kind of chemical onto his skin, which absorbed into his bloodstream.

“They’re beaming it down now,” the guard said—while simultaneously a shimmering haze lit up the room, as a white box materialised inside it.

_Good, the surgical kit._

“Bring it here.”

He tried to ignore Jim’s quiet moaning from underneath him, adjusting the dials on the scanner until the monitor showed something that made him frown. He didn’t notice the guard standing next to him with his kit.

“Jim…” he drawled out slowly, glancing up to Jim’s hand and taking it into his, “Can you squeeze my hand?”

Not even seconds later, there was a choked out, “ _I can’t…”_

McCoy pursed his lips, slipping his hand away and readjusting the dials. “Paralysis, huh…”

According to his medical tricorder, there was a chemical that not only paralysed Jim from every inch that the sheet was touching, but also appeared to be counteracting all other drugs that deal with the nervous system. Which shouldn’t be happening, as the sheet material was paralysing it.

“ _Okay_ …okay,” he muttered, shoving the scanner back in his bag and taking out a communicator, “We’re gonna get you back on the ship, see if we can get this damn sheet off.”

“Sir, your surgical kit?”

McCoy glanced up to see a guard holding—oh yes, he’d asked for the kit to be brought to him.

He took it from him, cracking open the case and swearing when he found no gloves.

_Get up to the ship. It’s safer._

One of the security guards that were loitering around the room stepped forward as McCoy flipped the communicator open.

“Sir, can you not peel off the material here?”

McCoy scoffed, “ _Damn it man_ , did you not hear what I just said? It’s a _paralytic_ , if I touch it without gloves my hands will be paralysed too. And I ain’t got gloves.”

Wordlessly, the redshirt nodded and quickly turned away, clearly not wanting to be on the receiving end of McCoy’s frustrated rants.

“McCoy to Enterprise, three to beam up—lock onto Spock’s location,” he glanced down at Jim and sucked in a breath, “-and get a medical team on standby!”

All five guards shot a look at him.

“Sir?”

He narrowed his eyes, “You’re staying here to deal with the two intruders. I’m going up with the captain and Spock. Understood?”

They all stood to attention immediately, “Yes sir.”

McCoy rolled his eyes, preparing to yell into the communicator repeating his order, but a yellow haze began swirling around he and Jim, the doctor recognising the tell-tale signs of transportation from his sudden dizziness.

He swiftly pocketed the communicator as the world began to fade into gold mist, and decided to comfort his friend, who was probably still scared shitless. “S’alright, Jim, we’re going home now.”

There was a soft murmur of acknowledgement, before the gold merged into white, and everything disappeared.

* * *

 

“Get him off the table and onto the damn stretcher! Move!”

With the table Jim was lying on having transported up with him; the team of medical personnel surrounded his prison and unbuckled his restraints, lifting him up from under the shoulders and feet, and carrying him onto the stretcher.

“Massive blood loss from a wide surgical incision—that damn green sheet is something I’ve never seen and appears to be coated with a paralytic that’s messing with the drugs I’ve been giving him,” McCoy called out as Kirk was practically thrown onto the stretcher, “Activate the major blood loss protocol and get him down to medical in the OR suite.”

As the flurry of personal swamped around the medical bed and raced off down the corridors, the doors leaving the transporter room hissed shut, leaving McCoy and Spock alone in the room with a transporter chief that was probably pretending not to be listening.

Spock wordlessly stared at the door, clearly taken aback by the whole ordeal and the state of Jim’s body, but refused to admit anything.

McCoy took a step towards him, trying to get his attention.

“You okay? That was some pretty traumatising shit you saw in there, y’know, even for a Vulcan.”

Slowly, Spock turned around to face him, his expression blank but his eyes quite obviously pained. McCoy didn’t mention the display of emotion.

“Why are you not with your staff?” was the first sentence uttered from the Vulcan since they arrived back on the ship.

The doctor frowned, biting back a retort something along the lines of _and why the hell aren’t you?;_ But decided better of it.

“Cuz they know what they’re doing with Jim and I trust ‘em. You however look pretty shocked. In fact, you might be _in_ shock, considering what you just saw,” he paused, seemingly having a staring contest with the Vulcan before reaching for his tricorder.

“I’m gonna do a quick scan—”

“Doctor, I am fine.”

McCoy’s icy glare was obviously enough to break Spock’s eye contact with him, the negligent Vulcan’s gaze now dropping to the floor.

“The hell you are. You even seen what ya look like? Yeah, like shit. Now, just give me a second.”

Spock awkwardly stood motionless on the spot while waiting for McCoy finish hovering various contraptions over him.

He knew the transporter chief was still standing somewhere behind him.

_Dammit. He **is** in shock. The hell do I get him down to medbay without embarrassing the green stubborn brick wall?_

“Perhaps you should walk to medbay with me,” he suggested, more as a demand than an offer, trying to spare him the embarrassment of announcing in front of the officer behind him that he needed help.

When Spock merely gazed at him, not saying a word, he decided to agree with himself and pushed gently against his back.

“C’mon, Spock, let’s go to medbay. Let’s go find Jim.”

Jim was being prepped for surgery, but perhaps the thought of him would at least get the guy to move.

Turning towards the door and gesturing for him to move, McCoy couldn’t help but notice out of the corner of his eye the Vulcan beginning to breathe rapidly.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the stages of shock were in Vulcans, especially as Spock was both that of a human and a Vulcan; there was no telling whether or not the symptoms would display themselves as clearly as humans did.

Pale clammy skin, rapid pulse, rapid breathing, fainting, nausea…the list went on, and he knew how to detect it just by looking at someone. But Spock could easily be holding all the reactions at bay on the outside, so McCoy had no idea if he was in the advance stages or if he was just borderline.

But judging by the sudden rapid breathing; that control was weaning fast, so he needed to get the stubborn sonofabitch out of the room and somewhere private before he reacts in a way that gets people talking.

“C’mon, Spock, just walk with me,” he encouraged, pushing the hand on Spock’s back a little harder until the man actually took a step forward.

“There ya go. Let’s get you to medbay so that you can sulk in a room on your own all you want,” he murmured, pushing him on as if teaching a child to walk, “I might even get Christine to make you some of that plomeek soup if ya don’t argue with me.”

It seemed to be repetition after this; Spock’s Vulcan fortitude being strong enough to make him walk despite the turmoil his brain was dealing with. Silently walked through the corridor, one foot after another, blankly looking ahead and not saying a word until McCoy stopped him outside the medbay doors.

McCoy warned him, “I don’t know if Jim’s still in here or if they’ve taken him down to the OR, but uh…just try not to look at him, huh?”

The Vulcan man briefly made eye-contact with the doctor, before staring idly at the door again, hands visibly beginning to shake.

McCoy sighed and stepped through, pulling Spock in as the doors hissed open, “Alright, c’mon, in here…jus’ follow me.”

To his surprise, Spock just kept his eyes trained on the ground, as if knowing himself that laying eyes upon Jim’s grossly misused body was too much for him and had no problem admitting it for once.

McCoy didn’t say a word about this, deciding there was nothing funny or rewarding about boasting to everyone that Spock was actually vulnerable and showing it.

This was certainly not a time to torment in good nature when Spock wasn’t capable of returning the banter.

“Through here,” he instructed, letting bay four’s doors slide open completely before letting Spock through.

He followed him in, then turned around to face his medical staff that were all staring wondrously at him on the other side of the room.

Firmly, he ordered “Keep the Captain on nitrous oxide if he still isn’t responding to sedatives. Make sure you’re wearing gloves,” before stepping back further enough for the doors to slide shut.

McCoy swiftly turned back around to Spock, ignoring the fact he was still standing immobile in the middle of the room like a realistic statue and headed straight for the equipment.

“I’m gonna give you a shot of lorazepam to calm you down, then M’Benga is going to take over,” he informed him, sliding the vial in the hypospray and turning back towards Spock, “I’m needed in the OR with Jim.”

Spock merely watched him; it was blatantly clear now that he was struggling through the sheer tenseness in his muscles and the wild look in his eyes.

McCoy quickly slammed the hypo into the man’s neck, expecting a response or a retort going by what usually happens, but nothing came from it.

He frowned, observing Spock’s concerned face for a second longer before taking his blue sleeve and leading him to the biobed, being careful not to touch skin in case it caused some weird touch telepathy, probably.

“ _Okay_ , sit down over here,” he grunted, shoving the man on the biobed with a rough _thump._

Spock resumed sitting ramrod straight on the biobed; but the doctor could clearly see that the rigid muscles were loosening, meaning the drug was working.

His pocket suddenly decided to start vibrating, causing him to freeze and frown at his leg.

Reaching into his pocket and pulling out his communicator, he saw an incoming transmission from the OR.

They looked panicked, appeared to be yelling, pointing and frantic. Another woman—Christine soon joined the nurse and started talking as well.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying—the communicator was on mute in case it went off back down on the planet and someone heard him.

Instead of turning the volume on, he flipped the device shut again, effectively closing the transmission and pocketing it again.

_The hell is happening here…_

McCoy folded his arms over his chest and turned to face Spock, “M’Benga is gonna deal with you. I uh…need to go,” he quickly strode out of the door and squeezed past before it had even finished hissing open.

He hastily caught the eye of M’Benga, gestured with his chin over to the room he just exited, then hurriedly jogged off into the operating room so he could finally get started on Jim.

* * *

 

Jim’s eyes rapidly surveyed the room full of bustling running staff, moving from person to person, but Bones wasn’t there.

 

Where was he? Had Bones really left him?

 

He remembered Cadel telling him Bones didn’t care anymore, but managed to convince himself it was a cruel lie to upset him.

But alas, he still wasn’t here.

“Where’s Bones?” he croaked at the room that was ignoring him.

A gloved woman came over to him with a pair of scissors ready to stab him—oh it was just Christine.

“Doctor McCoy is dealing with Spock right now,” she smiled at him, hardly visible through the harsh overhead light that was blocking his vision and making everything seem white.

Jim felt his heart kick up, “Spock?” he tried to lift his head, ”What’s happened?” he didn’t even know his friend was here.

Chapel’s smile dropped, “Let’s just worry about you, first, yeah? Let’s get this sheet off of you, it must feel very uncomfortable…”

“-Stop” Jim croaked, begging his limbs to move to defend himself but they remained paralysed.

Christine stopped, “This sheet is what’s causing your paralysis, Captain, let’s get it off now…”

She leaned in to touch him again but Jim ground out loudly “ _No!”_

To Jim’s surprise, the nurse did stop, and pulled back, shifting glances between the other members of staff in the room.

Another woman approached him—someone he couldn’t see as they were too far away, and tried to coax him into it.

“Captain, as soon as we get this sheet off of you, we can get you to sleep and fix this giant mess in your chest.”

Jim would’ve squirmed if he could’ve, “I don’t want to sleep!” he moaned, whipping his head from side to side, “Let me the hell out of here, you bastards!”

Obviously that offended the other staff, as they merely looked at each other in shock, one of them darting to wall and talking to it.

Clearly his captors are morons.

But if he was still being held captive…why was Christine Chapel here?

He blinked slowly, watching the blonde nurse run over to the other woman talking to the wall and join her in the moronic activity.

“Christine?” he groused, watching with curiosity as the nurse stopped yelling at the wall and turned to Jim.

She hastily stormed over, and for a second he thought he was in trouble.

“Captain? Are you alright?”

Jim let out a breath. Not in trouble, then.

“Did they capture you too?” he whispered, trying to keep from the other captors overhearing, “I’m gonna get us outta here, don’t worry, okay?”

Chapel furrowed her eyebrows at him, looking extremely concerned as if she was about to jump straight into a panic.

“I’m okay, Jim, we’re on the Enterprise. We’re both safe.”

No, he couldn’t fall for that. Cadel used to tell him that too, to trick him into thinking he was safe with him.

“No…Christine, Cadel is lying to us. We’re not on the Enterprise…”

She paused again, then shook her head and turned away, walking off to a tray of disturbing looking instruments.

“Let’s get this thing off of him and get him sedated, otherwise the boss is gonna walk in and kill us.”

He shook his own head frantically, “No! I need to be awake!” he shouted, trying once again to move his limbs.

Chapel walked towards him again with the scissors, “Relax, Captain, you’ll wake up and everything is gonna go back to normal,” she coaxed, leaning towards Jim’s leg and wincing as he let out an ear-piercing scream.

She shot back, thankfully, and stared at him again.

Another nurse walked up behind her.

“Should we wait for the CMO?”

Chapel continued gazing at Jim for a while, before disposing the instrument back on the tray.

 

At that moment, the doors suddenly hissed open, heavy footsteps stomping into the room before anyone had a chance to turn around.

 

“Alright, where is he? What’s happened?”

_Bones…_

Chapel spoke up first, “He’s acting a little delusional, screamed at me when I tried to cut the sheet off, thinks we’re still on Bovis,” then she pursed her lips and shrugged, “He was asking for you.”

The second nurse piped up after her, “He asked us to _let him out_ and called us bastards, I don’t think he’s completely with us.”

The tall man in blue nodded, striding over to Jim and glaring up at the monitors above the table.

“Jim? I’m here now, m’kay? You gonna let me do this, or you just gonna scream til’ I have to tape ya damned mouth shut?”

Despite the joke, Jim felt his heart go completely nuts at the fake threat, a dizziness suddenly washing over him unexpectedly.

“Hey, hey, it’s just a joke. My god…”

Jim slurred through the haze, “I don’t wanna go to sleep…”

“Well, you have to, I’m not having you awake for this,” he saw the blue blur move away to the left and heard his voice, “Cut the sheet, I’ll try to keep him cooperating.”

“Yes sir.”

Jim panicked, “Bones, we’re still on Bovis!”

Bones sighed and rolled his eyes, “I don’t know what shit you’re trippin’ on, Jim, but we’re sure as hell back on the Enterprise now.”

Jim’s eyes flicked from Bones back to Chapel, who was now slicing the scissors through the sheet wrapped tightly around his body.

Eventually the sheet had been ripped in two, Chapel and Bones both tearing the sheet off of Jim’s body and leaving it piling up on the floor.

“Put the material in stasis, I want to analyse it and see just what the hell that thing is supposed to be,” McCoy ordered as he tore the remaining material from Jim’s chest and arms.

As soon as the last of the material fell free, tirades of medical staff began swamping Jim’s biobed, grabbing his arms and piercing needles into them, sticking monitors over his chest and neck.

He squirmed as the feeling in his limbs slowly returned to him.

“ _Fuck…off!”_ he strained, trying to move his arms, “Let me _go!_ ”

In the distance he could hear a shrill fast beeping alarm, hardly recognisable through the fright he was dealing with.

When people began plunging hyposprays into his neck, that was the last straw.

All at once, Jim jolted at the sting and forced his weak legs to move, managing to kick someone in the chest with an _oof!_

Two warm large hands clamped around his head and forced them to look at the face above him.

Bones was scowling down at him, as per usual.

“Jim, don’t you go kicking my staff around, they’re trying to help.”

Before he could even muster a reply, a sudden excruciating burning pain in his chest sent his vision white; he opened his mouth to scream but everything sounded so distant.

The shouting voices and wailing alarms turned tinny and faded into a ringing sound in his ears.

Jim had no control over his body.

The muscles in his body became rigid, while his face remained constantly scrunched up in a failing attempt to scream.

While his ears continued ringing, he vaguely felt his arms being pulled out to their sides against his will, rock-hard and stiff against the rubber.

Another hypo went into his thigh, and soon the hands clamped around his face were joined by the sharp edges of an object; a warm, sweet-smelling air blasting through his nostrils.

He felt something cold shoot up his veins, up his wrist and up his arm, which simultaneously dragged him down, light-headed.

The pain was still thumping in his chest, every inhale was agony.

But he still tried to open his eyes. A compulsion in the back of his brain saying he _had_ to.

So he did.

Gritting his teeth through the anguish, he squinted at the bright surgical lights shining directly above him, his eyes focusing on Bones in the corner of his vision, shouting and commanding instructions that he couldn’t hear.

The man soon met Jim’s gaze, his expression softening, his lips moving but nothing was heard.

Something over his face shifted, and he vaguely registered that Bones’ hands was holding something to it, and suddenly his dizziness made sense.

Obviously Bones was trying to anesthetize him—the dizziness, the light-headedness, the sweet smell of the gas and weak vulnerable feeling in his limbs. He'd been through this many times before.

Gradually, the world became darker, and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Desperately, so _desperately_ he tried to stay awake, because damn it he _couldn’t_ sleep, he had to _save everyone from Cadel._

But the sedative that was gushing through the mask forced over Jim’s mouth and nose was too strong.

He sighed.

And he let go.

* * *

 

 **Did you enjoy this piece of textual work? Do you desire it's continuation? It is only logical therefore to leave a kudos or comment.**  (please)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst? What angst?!
> 
> Kirk is a mess, McCoy is a mess, Spock is a mess, and...well, everything is a mess.
> 
> So anyway, warning for some graphic description (kinda, but gotta be careful right?)

**A/N:** Just a quick ask...[I'm making a convention next year and could use a little support](https://tinyurl.com/incrediblyimportantlink) to hire the venue. We're all Trek fans here so...pretty please? Even if you can't come there's a shitton of rewards :)

 

* * *

 

  _Obviously Bones was trying to anesthetize him—the dizziness, the light-headedness, the sweet smell of the gas and weak vulnerable feeling in his limbs._

_Gradually, the world became darker, and he struggled to keep his eyes open._

_He tried to stay awake, because damn it, he couldn’t sleep, he had to save everyone from Cadel._

_But the drug that was gushing through the mask forced over Jim’s face was too strong._

_He sighed._

_And he let go._

* * *

 

He didn’t know how long he’d be standing there; cradling Jim’s head while trying to put him to sleep, pressing his thumb across his forehead in a repetitive motion to soothe him.

The chemicals absorbed into Jim’s skin must have been keeping him alive and somewhat paralysed until they ripped the sheet off and he started screaming from the pain.

He currently had a laryngeal mask airway stuck down his throat to keep him breathing.

McCoy had been more scared than anyone on the ship when he walked into the room and saw Jim awake and panicking on the table in a delusional frenzy thinking he needed to save everyone on the Enterprise from Cadel.

Clearly when Jim was down on Bovis, Cadel had done more than just cut him open, and he dreaded to think about what.

 

“Doctor?”

 

He blinked, phasing himself back into reality.

They were in the operating room. Jim was asleep. He could actually _start_ to repair the damage.

He just had to keep up his cantankerous irritable reputation for a few more hours before he could lock himself in a room until Jim woke up.

McCoy glared down the very obvious dissection looking incision and lay his hand out.

“Retractor.”

_Slap._

Sometimes he wondered if this was against regulations. It was a general known rule that surgeons should never have to operate on their friends…but if he’s the head surgeon and CMO, what’s he supposed to do? Leave a traumatic injury in the hands of some ensign because of the ‘rules’?

Head down and concentrating on the area, a nurse piped up behind him.

“How the hell has this man survived for so long?”

He grunted, inserting the retractor into Jim’s chest wall and looking for any evidence of injury from that bastard Cadel.

Another man responded to the nurse, “I don’t know, but I have a feeling it’s something to do with that sheet.”

He held out his hand again, not looking away from the site, “Forceps.”

_Slap._

“What is it, doc?”

McCoy huffed a quiet sigh and shook his head.

“I don’t think the bastard got far enough to do any damage, his organs all look intact.”

There was a quiet _‘hmmm’_ from another doctor.

“Should we test the mains?”

He frowned, “He’s not a machine, dammit!” but he reached away and looked between the several organs, “But uh, yeah, let’s make sure they can still run at their peak.”

At least he would be able to seal him up knowing for definite whether there has been permanent damage.

He still would need to do many a physical on Jim to monitor him, which was going to be fun.

With any luck he’d be too fatigued to argue.

“Doctor?”

He glanced up again.

_Damn it, stop getting distracted._

“Yeah. Run a peak artificial stress test on his heart and lungs first.”

Luckily with technology nowadays, they could use a machine to artificially force an organ to work at their maximum peak. If it failed or fluctuated within the first twenty seconds, they’d know there was damage and fix it while they still had him open.

“I’m attaching an artificial pump now, doctor,” a nurse said, a low humming noise droning from the machine under the operating table.

McCoy watched carefully, waiting for Jim’s heart to suddenly fall into VF or go into cardiac arrest completely, but to his surprise, it continued to pump normally. In fact, his lungs were automatically picking up to compensate.

He nodded to himself and waved the nurse off, “He’s fine. Looks like there’s no damage,” he informed them, tapping a few options on the monitor to send a record to his PADD, “Cadel must have just managed to open him up before he got side-lined by us.”

The nurse controlling the pump cringed, “Sounds like it would’ve been painful.”

McCoy rolled his eyes, “He was awake and screaming, the hell you’d think he was doing? Actually, no, don’t tell me.”

He caught another doctor smirking to himself at the subtle innuendo known to their Captain, before striding back to the surgical site and getting ready to close it.

_Thank god you’re safe, Jim…_

* * *

 

“No, Mister Spock, I cannot permit you to leave until Doctor McCoy has discharged you!”

Spock stared at M’Benga, hovering by the exit doors that wouldn’t open due to override.

“You are suggesting that I will be held here against my will.” he speculated, tone questioning as if in surprise.

The doctor sighed, “Well, _yes,_ I can’t let you leave, you know that,” M’Benga stepped away from him and gestured back towards the biobed. Spock remained put on the spot.

“I am the first officer of the Enterprise. Surely, I must have some control over my own personal—”

“And McCoy is a grade above all of us!” M’Benga interjected tiredly, having been arguing for a while now “Hell, he’s above the Captain, so, medically, he can get him to do whatever he wants. And right now, he wants you to stay here and me to ensure that you do.”

Spock craned his neck slightly and pondered this. Perhaps there really was no logical, legal way out of this confinement.

“I do not understand why I am to be held here. Am I not fit for duty?” he tried it another way.

His doctor sighed, “You are. In fact, you could be commanding the ship from this room for all we care, but McCoy has the last word,” there was a beat of silence before he said softly, “We can’t let you out until McCoy comes back, Spock.”

He considered this again, deciding it would be best to go with what the good doctor ordered.

Besides, if he left here without consent, McCoy would probably drag him back in here and keep him in the room for three days just out of spite.

“Very well,” he finally agreed, moving away from the door and perching himself on the biobed, ramrod straight, “I will remain here until Doctor McCoy is out of surgery.”

M’Benga nodded slowly, before adding for good measure, “And he has to come and _see_ you for himself as well. Don’t just walk out, now.” He raised an eyebrow.

Spock raised one back.

“Of course. You are dismissed, doctor,” he said, as if he were allowed to dismiss his attending physician.

For a second he wondered if he was becoming emotionally compromised.

Perhaps he should meditate to settle his mind. Not that he would admit to anyone that it needed settling.

………….

 

McCoy came sauntering in ten minutes later, his hair dishevelled as if having just been attacked by a crew member.

Unfathomable anxiety suddenly pitted at the bottom of Spock’s stomach, and for a second he wondered if Jim had survived, going by how stressed the doctor looked.

To make matters worse, the man smiled at him gently.

“Hey Spock,” he greeted, gesturing to the biobed, “Sit down for a second will you?”

Slowly, Spock stopped gazing at McCoy’s unkept hair and stalked over to the biobed, uncertainty sitting in his gut and causing him to remain quiet.

Gazing concerned at him, Spock watched as McCoy followed him over with a stool, perching in front of Spock’s biobed and facing him.

“What of the Captain?” he asked with as much Vulcan-strength as possible.

It suddenly dawned upon him how terribly injured Jim was, and how unlikely it was that he would survive. The image of Jim lying screaming on the table on Bovis with his insides exposed to the air suddenly made its way to the forefront of his mind.

It seemed like forever until McCoy finally spoke.

“I’ll start with the good news,” he spoke softly, taking a deep breath as if trying to compose himself, “He’ll live. That’s what you needed to know, right?”

Spock felt a huge relief wash over him, nodding subtly at the correct assumption.

“Yeah. Well, his organs are fine. Those bastards didn’t get as far as they wanted to, we managed to get there just in time—”

“We were not in time, doctor,” Spock interjected roughly, “You and I both saw the state of his body on Bovis.”

McCoy closed his eyes, taking another deep breath and raising an eyebrow, “Yeah. I was the one that had to _close_ it, Spock. But not before ripping the entire incision wide open to get a good look. Yeah? Yeah. I had to close it myself. You didn’t see that.”

It was clear the doctor was stressed. Very stressed. Perhaps even more stressed than he was. Doctor McCoy was human, after all. Vulcans like himself didn’t get _stressed._

“And what of the bad news?” he asked instead, wanting to know exactly what he would have to prepare himself for.

Was he not breathing? Would he have to be permanently relinquished of command? Was there unforeseen damage?

McCoy bit his lip, opening his mouth to speak but pausing. Spock craned his head and tried to figure out what he was doing.

“ _Fuck_.” Spock heard him mutter, watching as McCoy clenched his fists and threw his head into his hands. _“Fuck.”_

Spock waited for a while, knowing that despite their usual attempts at banter, McCoy was definitely not one to be joking with right now. The doctor was generally an emotional man, and this would likely have pushed him beyond his limit.

“I’m sorry, Spock. Y’know, for actin’ like an idiot, like this. It’s just…god. He’s so out of it, y’know? I can’t fix mental instability as easy as I can a physical, human body.”

Spock nodded slowly, realising that McCoy was trying to tell him the problem without specifically admitting it.

“I take it the ordeal has made him mentally unstable?”

McCoy avoided eye contact, then shrugged, “He’s not insane, or anything like that. He’s not violent.” He paused, meeting Spock’s gaze again, “He’s just scared. Very very scared. Acting like he ain’t seen a damn human being in his life.” He sucked in another breath.

“I tried to bring him out of the anaesthesia when we brought him into his room. Completely flipped out on me, and on my staff. Had to put ‘im back under again as he was totally freakin’ out.”

McCoy remained quiet for a few moments, likely trying to stop himself from showing emotion.

“He was fuckin’ crying, Spock. _Crying._ Jim Kirk, crying. Can you imagine that?”

_Indeed I can, doctor. I experienced it for myself._

“Tried to ask him how he felt, he just started crying and looked at me as if I’d killed his entire family. I’ll never forget the way his eyes looked at me. He was so fuckin’ terrified.”

Spock grasped his fingers and lowered his gaze, trying to process this. Did Jim remember who they were?

“I’m pretty sure it’s a classic case of PTSD, brought on by the traumatic experience with Cadel,” McCoy explained, beginning to shift back into his professional doctor tone now, “I have a bad feeling the bastard wasn’t even intending for Jim to come out of that room alive, didn’t give a shit about how scared he was.”

Spock pursed his lips at the urge to storm over to the brig and beat the shit out of Cadel, regardless of his mind pushing him to keep in control of himself. His father would be ashamed. And his mother, if she was still…

“But he came out alive, and now he’s seriously fucked up. Chapel’s got him in restraints, and I had to put him so far under I had to put him on a ventilator as his breathing was compromised…”

Spock let himself stare at his feet.

“I fuckin’ hate this, Spock.”

Blowing out a long breath through his nostrils, he raised his head to meet McCoy’s gaze, and nodded.

“I too, hate this, doctor.”

* * *

 

... _Beep…_

_…Beep…_

_…Beep…_

_…Beep…_

 

It was that constant rhythm that began to irritate Jim back into consciousness. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore it. He was always a light sleeper, ready to jump into command-mode and all.

 

_…Beep…_

_…Beep…_

 

He opened his eyes with the intent to survey the room. But there was only darkness, with a slight blue light luminating from the monitor above him, incessantly beeping.

Jim decided he wanted to move his head, to get a better idea of his surroundings, but found he couldn’t.

His head twitched, and it jerked something in his throat, and its presence suddenly became obvious to him, realising something was sticking out of mouth.

His eyes widening a bit more, he tried to grab at the object, only to find his arms wouldn’t budge.

Unable to remove the contraption in this mouth and down his throat, he panicked, eyes burning from the forming tears, and he tried to move. He hardly noticed the irritating beeping anymore.

_Beep—Beep—Beep—Beep—Beep—Beep_

It grew louder, quicker, more urgent, at the same rate of his thumping heart racing in his chest.

He vaguely felt his chest quickly rising and falling, and he clenched his fists, terrified.

The rapid urgent beeping in his ears soon were accompanied by a swoosh, and quick footsteps that grew louder, closer.

A small light turned on beside him, like a bedside lamp, and he was forced to stare at a blonde woman dressed completely in white clad uniform, somehow looking both worried and concerned at the same time.

She smiled down at him while his heart continued to race, eyes burning from unshed tears that wouldn’t fall, as he couldn’t move his head.

“Hello dear.” She greeted gently, pacing over to him slowly, “You’re okay. You’re on the Enterprise. You’re safe.”

Jim continued gazing at her wide-eyed, still petrified of all the things going on with his body more than anything else.

“I know you’re scared, but I promise all this stuff is here to keep you safe, okay?” Jim felt a gentle tap on his hand, knowing she was referring to the restraints.

“And this in your mouth is helping you to breath. Now, the fact that you’re awake and not struggling on this tube here means that your lungs aren’t quite ready to work on their own yet, so I’m gonna get my boss to take a look and make sure you’re alright, okay?”

The tears were flowing freely now. He felt warm tears slide against the sides of his face and onto the pillow, unable to move at all away from the spot.

The woman offered another worried smile and quickly walked away, the light now shining into nothing, and Jim was left panicking, wondering just what the hell was happening.

He moved his eyes to the left of him, just about able to see the contraption in his mouth connected to a tube, that was leading away from him and onto a large white machine. There was a blinking orange light on the panel, and he wondered if that was to do with his breathing.

Looking at the rest of his body the best he could with his immobile head, he noticed many more tubes appearing from the end of the blanket and connected to the same machine. There was another machine at the end of the bed with a tube running under the middle of the blanket, and he wondered what it was connected to.

Glancing to his right, there was a much smaller, tiny tube running out of his arm; under the restraints and falling freely onto the floor, trailing along for a while before it was met with a tall stand, several multicoloured vials on it.

Seconds later, loud footsteps resurfaced, except there was multiple.

The blonde woman returned, except with a man this time, who was also wearing the white clad uniform.

He looked more nervous than the woman did.

“Hey buddy,” the man said, with a noticeably southern drawl, “You weren’t supposed to wake up for a while yet, but I guess I should’ve predicted this. Your body just wants to irritate me.”

After that last four words left the man’s mouth, Jim hands suddenly began to shake, and he had no idea why. He panicked, but didn’t know what for.

“Ah…you do remember that? It’s alright, I’ll make sure to supress it when you’re better.” The man sat on a stool beside Jim, a seat he didn’t even realise was there.

Then, the doctor reached out to a silver drawer and pulled out a small square contraption that was about the size of his hand, and began hovering it over Jim. That too made strange beeping noises.

The man spoke to the woman beside him, “His lungs are still undamaged but don’t seem to want to start…” he sounded incredibly concerned, his features crinkling and frowning in the harsh bedside light, “It might be that damned chemical. Get me a full blood count and analyse it for any presence of the chemical.”

“Yes sir.” And the woman walked away…and around the bed…to the other side.

The man glanced up to the monitor and watched it for a while.

“Doctor McCoy?”

Jim forced himself to look out of the corner of his right eye where the woman was calling the man.

“His hands are shaking. Is it a seizure?”

Jim glanced back over to the man named McCoy, and he only had to take one look at Jim wide-eyed frightened face before shaking his head at the woman.

“No, he’s just panicking again,” he glanced back up to the monitor and licked his lips, “Give him ten milligrams of diazepam, it should settle his vitals down.”

“Yes sir.”

Jim’s wrist suddenly felt cold, the feeling running up his arm and causing an uncomfortable feeling in the crook of his elbow.

McCoy stopped reading the monitor, offered a small smile to Jim and rolled up on the stool beside his head.

“This is just a small setback kid, don’t worry,” he heard the man murmur, a hand suddenly placed over his forehead, “It could’ve been much worse. Hell, it _has_ been much worse, so this is nothing.”

Jim glanced up at the man, a wave of dizziness suddenly washing over him, his face flushing.

He blinked slowly, trying to force himself to stay awake so he could look into worried eyes that seemed so familiar.

“Just sleep, Jim. Close your eyes.”

Instinctively his mind was telling him not to trust this man, that this man would undoubtedly try to hurt him.

But another part of him felt kind of…safe, and protected, by this man leaning over him, his hand over his forehead.

He blinked again, and again, until he struggled to keep his eyelids open.

He felt a warm hand squeeze his before he let go.

* * *

 

Well, this was just great.

Jim’s lungs didn’t want to start.

Absolutely perfect.

Because he couldn’t come out of the OR, lie on a bed and wake up like every other normal human being out there.

Nope.

 _Something_ had to go wrong, because it was Jim Kirk. And with Kirk, something _always_ went wrong.

He could restart a heart, but how the hell do you restart lungs?

The question was something McCoy had been pondering since Jim had passed out again, which was perhaps an hour ago.

Until his head nurse made a breakthrough.

“Sir, it seems his blood is clear of the toxin but his lungs are full of it,” she explained, handing him over a PADD with her findings, “It’s not that his lungs don’t want to start, it’s because it _can’t_ start.”

McCoy glared at the floating red symbols all over Jim’s toxicity x-ray.

“His lungs are paralysed.”

Well.

“I’ll be damned,” he exclaimed, watching the little red warning symbols floating around the black and white picture on screen, “So, it got into his lungs, huh. How the hell did it manage that?”

He scowled at the red dots, as if he could scare them away.

“I assume he…inhaled them,” Chapel said from in front of McCoy, still watching the live feedback.

“Inhaled them…how…?” he murmured, quickly swiping along the picture to see if the toxins had infested any other part of his body.

Thankfully, it just looked to be centred in his lungs.

“Cadel?” Chapel offered, clearly running low on detailed explanations.

McCoy raised an eyebrow, inhaling deeply and passing the PADD back to his head nurse.

“Right. So, we go see the bastard in the brig.” McCoy looked around the room to see how many people were left in duty, “If he can shed any light on how it got in there, we could get it out.”

Thankfully, two doctors were still walking around, not including Chapel herself.

“I recommend bringing Mister Spock,” she offered, sliding the PADD on a nearby tray and pointing to the wall comm, “I’m sure he’ll be…happy to accompany you,” she smiled.

McCoy smirked, storming over to the wall comm and slamming his fist onto the button.

“McCoy to bridge.”

“Spock here, doctor.”

“We’re going to the brig to uh…interrogate Cadel,”

Best not mention the Captain’s condition or else the whole damn ship will be swarming outside sickbay.

“I assume your notifying me of this, is an offer for me to accompany you?”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, Spock, if there’s someone to take over. Y’know, acting-acting captain.”

“I will be down momentarily.”

Then the transmission ended abruptly.

Grumbling under his breath, McCoy pushed past Chapel and retrieved his PADD from the tray, needing something to take notes on.

Spock appeared by the door minutes later.

Not walking _into_ sickbay, but standing outside the strip of the room, waiting in the corridor.

“Too scared to come in, huh Spock?” McCoy teased, trudging over to the door with his PADD under his arm, “Chapel, take over in here.”

“Yes sir.”

“Doctor, Vulcans are not capable of feeling afra…”

_Whoosh._

* * *

 

Spock knew that the doctor was hiding something from him the second he looked at his determined face.

McCoy _never_ came to interrogations unless it was medically necessary. The man was practically glued to sickbay from the time his shift started until it ended.

So when he calls Spock to go on an errand with him, marching down the corridors sternly like a man on a mission, he knew something had happened while he was on the bridge.

“Doctor—”

“Spock—”

They both gazed at each other while continuing to walk, before McCoy shrugged and flapped his hand, “Go for it.”

Spock narrowed his eyebrows, watching McCoy’s face very carefully. He didn’t even seem to notice; the man was just fixated on the path ahead of them.

“Am I correct in my presumption that something has occurred with the Captain while I was on duty?”

McCoy merely snorted, “That’s what I was gonna tell ya about,” he raised an eyebrow and took out the PADD from under his arm, “Despite Jim’s lungs being perfectly functional, they won’t start.”

Spock shot a glare at him and stopped in his tracks. If Jim was not breathing, then he is currently suffocating.

McCoy however just rolled his eyes at him, “Not like _that,_ Spock, I mean…he’s on a ventilator, so he is breathing, but his lungs are paralysed.”

They continued walking.

Spock raised an eyebrow, “Paralysis? I had assumed this would not happen again once the chemically infused sheet was removed?”

He nodded, “Yeah, it didn’t. He can move his limbs but not his lungs. And it’s weird, cause’ he was breathin’ perfectly fine up until I anesthetised him.”

Spock watched McCoy’s face dropped as he came to a conclusion unknown to him.

“Doctor?”

McCoy stuttered, “Uh…well, now I think about it, perhaps it was a reaction set off by the anaesthesia. So…essentially it’s my fault. It must have been dormant in his lungs and reacted to the drugs…huh.”

Spock didn’t quite understand what the doctor was going on about, but assumed it made sense to him.

“If I had just waited another hour, we would have detected it on the x-ray and removed it before it did any harm.”

Spock interrupted his thoughts of self-pity, “Negative, doctor. If you had waited longer than it took you to get him into surgery, he would have died.”

McCoy glared at him, “You got odds for that, Spock?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Affirmative. I believe it would be eighty sev—”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, stop.”

The other eyebrow went up. Why ask for the odds if you don’t want to hear it?

“Anyway, we’re here now. Let’s go see what the bastard did to his lungs.”

Spock nodded slowly, noting the doctor was likely to have an emotional outburst during this ‘interrogation’.

“And what exactly are we to ask the prisoner?” he hadn’t actually been told why they were interrogating him.

McCoy turned and glared at him as they approach a guard, “The hell do you think?” the guard nodded idly and let them pass, “Cadel paralysed his lungs and we need to know how to be able to reverse it, and he sure as hell didn’t stuff a sheet down his gut.”

Spock didn’t reply, merely stepped onto the brig corridor and quickly made his way to the first cell before McCoy could.

“Oi, you son of a bitch!”

Perhaps he should walk faster.

“This behaviour is not logical, doctor, we must remain calm and professional.”

McCoy gave him a death stare before darting in front of him, “I don’t give a shit, Spock,” then he turned to the prisoner who looked pretty surprised to see them there, “You…you piece of shit. What did you do to the Captain?”

The prisoner, Cadel, gazed at McCoy for a second, before standing up from his seat and slowly pacing over, “You mean James?”

McCoy huffed, “Yeah I mean _James,_ damn it! His lungs are paralysed, what the hell did you do?”

The man actually seemed generally surprised. “They are? They’re paralysed?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, you bastard,” McCoy spat, completely forgetting Spock was right next to him at this point, “They’re replicating rapidly, we can’t drain them unless we know how it got there.”

Cadel raised an eyebrow similar to how Spock would, generally seeming interested, “I assure you, this was an accident. It was true I paralysed his cardiovascular and respiratory system before my work on him, but I did not intend for the toxin to remain in his system.”

McCoy was red-faced at this point, and suddenly Spock was ‘glad’ he had been called down to accompany him.

“Well, it’s not in his heart anymore, that’s working fine, no thanks to you. Now tell me just why the hell his lungs are currently sittin’ there like a fuckin lemon!”

Spock subtly raised an eyebrow at the odd comparison.

It took a few moments, but Cadel shook his head.

“Nah.”

McCoy pressed his nose to the glass, “What the fuck do you mean, _nah?_ ”

Spock stepped forward, “ _Doctor_ ,” he hissed in warning, “This is futile. Step away from the prisoner.”

McCoy shoved him away, “Hold on, Spock. Cadel, did you even intend for him to walk out of there alive?”

“No.”

“ ** _You son of a_** _—!”_

“Doctor.” Spock held a hand out in front of McCoy, nudging him away from the glass wall.

He could clearly see he needed to get the man away from the prisoner.

“Let us visit the other humanoid, Ruri. Perhaps she could be of some use.”

McCoy glared at the other man through the wall, panting like a riled lion.

This time it was Spock’s turn to lead the other man away from the room and across the corridor. He ordered to the guard, “Release the shutters.”

A huge metal wall suddenly fell from all four walls of the inside of the prisoner’s glass panel, covering up any sight of him.

Silently, both men walked to the next cell, to find Ruri sitting in the corner of the room, just absentmindedly staring at the floor.

McCoy trudged over slowly, pressing a few buttons on the panel to open up a small hole in the glass wall where they could speak through, which was also used as an entrance for an arm to take a blood sample.

But he didn’t need that today.

Spock watched the other man take a deep breath to calm himself.

“Ruri.”

Almost instantly, the woman’s head shot up, apparently in alarm, but upon seeing them, seemed to settle.

Which was odd. She should be afraid of her future at the hands of Starfleet instead of feeling relieved by their presence.

“Get over here.”

Despite the doctor’s stern voice, Ruri quickly stood up and walked over, stuttering and apologising illogically.

“I’m so sorry, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be,” her voice shook, “Cadel took it too far, that’s not normal for us, I-I swear it’s usually a humane process—”

McCoy shut his eyes and raised his hand to tell her to, essentially, shut up.

“Frankly, I don’t care about that right now,” he bit back, “I do however, care about the fact that our Captain is lying in our intensive care unit, terrified and stuck on a damn ventilator because his lungs can’t start.”

Ruri frowned, “Why not?”

Spock heard McCoy mutter _damn it_ under his breath.

“Well, I was hoping you could tell me that.”

They were then left staring at each other wordlessly, McCoy looking like he could kill someone and Ruri looking as if she was debating something with herself.

 

“He wanted to see if his body would restart itself on its own.”

 

McCoy glanced up at her, furrowing his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”

She nodded, “This was before he…you know…opened him up. And before I…left the room. He, Cadel, basically he just—”

“Spit it out, woman, what did he do?”

Ruri sucked in a breath.

“It’s not standard procedure. He just wanted to see if his body would automatically revive itself if his organs shut down.”

McCoy scrunched his fingers into a fist, “ _How?”_

Ruri bit her lip, “He was still unconscious, if that’s any consolation. Cadel just…stuck this…tube down his throat, forced it into lungs, where the air is.”

Her glance fell to the floor. “Attached it to this…machine, it’s usually used to revive someone who had an adverse reaction but it had the opposite effect.”

She swallowed hard, “Pumped a lot of these toxins into his lungs, for…about ten minutes. It travelled into his heart, into his brain, his entire body, and he just…paralysed it. Just to see if it would restart on its own.”

Spock dared to glance at McCoy, noticing his jaw clenched, breathing heavily through his nose.

“And you didn’t _try_ to help him? Jim?”

She hesitated, and shook her head, “I couldn’t. Cadel was mad. If I tried anything…you don’t know what he’s like. He’s the one that does all these mad experiments on him, not me. I’m just his assistant. I’m disposable and he was angry.”

McCoy grunted, “And _why_ was he angry?”

Ruri fidgeted with her hands. “Did you know about the implant in his head?”

He shook his head.

“Um, you damaged the implant when you fixed his eye. It was supposed to be recording visual input for everything James sees, it was expensive, and your fixing his eye corrupted the implant.”

McCoy scoffed, “You mean to tell me Cadel tortured and nearly killed Jim because of a fuckin’ broken implant?”

Ruri nodded solemnly.

“I’m so sorry.”

McCoy stared at her for a moment longer, before spitting “Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

Spock took a step closer to him, “ _Doctor_. Do you have the information you need to heal the Captain?”

McCoy ignored him, “Do you know how to reverse it?”

Ruri gazed back up at him again, “Why? What’s wrong?”

The doctor was gritting his teeth, “ _Because,_ Ruri, he’s sedated, restrained and flat on his back, stuck on a ventilator because his lungs are still paralysed from that damn toxin you gave him.”

Ruri craned her neck, “It _was_ reversed—I reversed it when Cadel was satisfied. He was breathing on his own—I even came to see him again before Cadel started his final procedure.”

McCoy nodded, “Well, after I anesthetised him—”

“You anesthetised him?”

There was a pause, McCoy looking like he was close to smashing the glass.

“ _Yes.”_

Ruri pursed her lips, “Um…it can take 24 hours for the toxin to completely die. I deactivated the toxin, but it sounds like the anaesthetic drug reactivated them and started duplicating again, until there was enough produced to take hold of his respiratory system.”

McCoy nodded, then froze, realising something.

“Hang on—if it’s reproducing, doesn’t that mean it’s going to start shutting down his other organs too?”

Thankfully, and to Spock’s undisclosed relief, Ruri shook her head.

“No, there’s not enough toxins. It would take a week before there would be enough produced to start paralysing his other organs. It only worked when we did it because Cadel had stuffed a tube down his throat and fed him the toxins for ten minutes straight.”

Then she paused and said quietly, “You’re very lucky that the only toxins left were in his lungs. If the others in his body were still functioning, his other organs would be shutting down too.”

McCoy nodded, seemingly having calmed down a little now, knowing what happened and probably going through in his head how he was going to fix it.

“Well, this is new territory for us. How do we reverse it?”

Ruri looked uncomfortable, wrapping her arms around herself, “I only knew to do it the way Cadel taught me, which is with the tube.”

McCoy nodded determinedly.

“Push seventy milligrams of Phostecan Flexeprotin through the tube to make sure it reaches directly to his lungs. Make sure his lungs aren’t moving or he’ll choke. Fill his lungs completely with the medicine—”

_“What!?”_

“…Fill his lungs completely with the medicine, wait for the toxins to die out, then reverse suction on the tube to drain the liquid.”

McCoy’s face had turned pale.

“How the hell long does this take?”

“About five minutes waiting time once all the liquid is in his lungs. Another five to account for inserting the tube and draining the liquid.”

McCoy visibly swallowed and was going even more pale.

“That’s borderlining brain damage. Is that why he’s terrified and confused?”

Ruri shook her head, “No, like I said, he was fine when I came to see him later. I would say his confusion is likely down to the limited amount of toxins entering his brain with the oxygen. Not enough to shut it down but it is enough to confuse it.”

Spock watched silently as McCoy spun back around for a second, rubbing his hand over his face and staring at the wall wide-eyed.

Clearly, there is a very fine line with the procedure. Brain damage begins to occur after ten minutes without oxygen, he knew that much.

“This is my fault,” he heard him mutter quietly, “This is my fucking fault. If I…didn’t anesthetize him…”

Spock approached him carefully, “It is not your fault.” he spoke sterner than intended, “Jim would have died had you not operated, and it was inhumane to keep him awake in his state.”

He paused, trying to think of how else to comfort the human.

“Now you must simply destroy the remaining toxins to heal Jim’s body.”

McCoy continued staring at the floor for a while, hand pressed over his face, before nodding slowly.

“Yeah…”

To his surprise, the doctor then suddenly walked out of the room quickly, without saying another word.

Swiftly, Spock approached the worried looking humanoid. “We appreciate your compliance. You may have saved Jim’s life, despite being part of a cause that almost ended it.”

Spock walked away, marching quickly to catch up with McCoy, missing the hidden regretful tear falling from the captor’s eye.

 

He only hoped they would be able to cure Jim in time.

 

* * *

 

 **Did you enjoy this piece of textual work? Do you desire it's continuation? It is only logical therefore to leave a kudos or comment.**  (please)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets treated for his new predicament, then gets fascinated with an inanimate object thanks to Bones' drugs.

**A/N: I'll be honest; I really struggled with this one. But hey it's submitted and not abandoned. I just need to get my mojo back.**

* * *

_"Now you must simply destroy the remaining toxins to heal Jim’s body.”_

_“Yeah…” the doctor then hurriedly walked out of the room, without saying another word._

_Swiftly, Spock approached the worried looking humanoid. “We appreciate your compliance. You may have saved Jim’s life, despite being part of a cause that almost ended it.”_

_Spock walked away, marching quickly to catch up with McCoy._

_He only hoped they would be able to cure Jim in time._

* * *

 

“You made it sound so easy,” McCoy grumbled, watching Kirk from across sickbay and wondering just how the hell he was going to approach him about this, “ _Simply destroy the toxins_ you said. Simply my ass. You think he’s jus’ gonna accept this?”

He knew Spock was staring at him out the corner of his eye.

“I am open to suggestions.”

McCoy scoffed, “No, _I’m_ open to suggestions, Spock. You’re just gonna stand there and watch. Or go to the bridge. Whatever it is you do.”

Spock considered this for a moment and craned his head, “I will have to report to the bridge, as there is no legitimate reason to be absent from duty.”

McCoy rolled his eyes, “Of course you will. Do remember to think of him lying here suffering while you’re slouching nice n’ contented on the bridge.”

“I do not slouch.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

He looked back over to Jim again.

How was he going to explain to him that this man who he apparently didn’t recognise, that he seemed to be _scared of_ , was going to stuff a tube down his throat and fill his lungs with liquid and leave him on the edge of brain damage?

Not easily- not to anyone.

Either the Vulcan was hiding his concern or generally didn’t care. Probably the latter.

“I will report to duty now. Keep me informed on the Captain’s condition.”

McCoy didn’t even make eye-contact with the bastard and stormed over to Jim—slowing down to a small jog when he remembered he needed to be gentle.

The kid seemed to be awake, at least—whether that was a good or bad thing he couldn’t decide.

He dragged a stool up beside his biobed, still trying to fathom the words that could somehow lay this on him gently.

McCoy took a deep breath and forced a smile.

“Hey, Jim. How you feelin’?”

Stupid question, especially considering he can’t even talk with the ventilator stuck down his throat.

The man gazing back at McCoy frowned, then rattled the restraints on his arms as if to convey a message. A very obvious one at that—he wanted out of the restraints.

He smiled sadly, “You know I can’t do that yet, Jim. Don’t trust ya to try yanking the damn ventilator out your throat and suffocate yourself.” Glancing at Jim’s disappointed expression, he sighed, “But getting that thing out is what I wanted to talk to ya about.”

Cautious blue eyes flicked up to meet his, looking hopeful but weary.

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna come out with it…yeah.” He paused, watching Jim’s eyes trained onto his, dreading the moment when fear will likely fill them, “I have some uh…some medicine to make your lungs better. ‘Cause they’re…not working properly, you see, and I, uh, I need to take the ventilator out for that.”

Jim’s eyes were still watching him, interested.

“I have this…uh,” he twisted to the side and reached for the tubing matching Ruri’s specifications, “This longass tube here, and this needs to reach your lungs.”

Jim’s face was beginning to drop now, worry beginning to pile in.

McCoy sighed, deciding there was no use trying to sugarcoat something like this and just came out with it.

“Instead of the ventilator being down your throat, there will be this tube. And it’ll go all the way down to your lungs. It’s really thin, see, so it can fit into your bronchial tubes,” he wiggled it a bit, trying to be as light hearted as possible.

Jim’s eyes gazed at the tube, watching it sway from the movement a bit before glancing back up to McCoy, anxiety in his entire face.

“Then we’ll put the medicine down it. Now, because you won’t be on the ventilator your lungs will already be frozen so that’s…alright.”

_It’s not alright dammit, but it’s what we need to happen._

“Your lungs will fill up with the liquid, and I won’t lie; it’ll be very uncomfortable while we give it time to do it’s thing. Then we’ll drain the liquid, remove the tube, and depending on how strong your lungs are, ya might be able to breath on your own or temporarily be back on the ventilator…”

He paused when he heard the tugging scratching noises from the restraints, Jim trying to escape as if trapped here like a wild animal.

“But you’ll be under conscious sedation, so you won’t know what’s going on anyway,” he rest a hand on Jim’s forehead for alleged _comfort_ , but knew it was futile when the struggling continued, “I promise you won’t feel a thing, no pain at all. Just uncomfortable. Okay?”

His words fell on deaf ears when Jim’s struggling became more violent, the _beep-beep-beep_ of the monitor increasing with urgency as his panic became known.

McCoy sighed, completely expecting this and unsure with how to proceed.

 _Do it now,_ he told himself, _do it now and get it over with._

“Okay…”

He was sure a sentence was supposed to follow that, but he froze, rubbing his hand over his face, distressed.

When he glanced back up, Jim, was restlessly watching him.

Pursing his lips, McCoy reached into his pocket and pulled out the communicator, deciding he wasn’t going to move away from Jim until he was sedated, at the very least.

It sounded ridiculous calling the main medbay when it was only through the door behind him, but Jim couldn’t be left alone in his private ward after what he’d been told and god knows what was going through his head.

“McCoy to medbay.”

A pause, Jim’s eyes still locked onto his gaze.

“Chapel here, doctor. Do you need assistance?”

Someone competent was on duty. _Good._

“Yeah. He’s not in trouble, but I need to start that procedure I was tellin’ you about. I might need more help on standby, so bring another nurse just in case.”

She must have been busy, because it took another few seconds for her to reply, “I’ll be with you in two minutes doctor.”

McCoy grunted a quiet _yeah_ and flipped the communicator shut, stuffing it away in his pocket and slowly making eye-contact with Jim, who’s face still resembled someone that had been shut in a slaughter house.

He sighed, not sure how to comfort him at this stage. Bedside manner was never really his strong point. He was a doctor, and he was going to do everything he could to fix Jim, and that’s all that mattered.

* * *

 

Ten minutes, one tube-in-throat and one drugged Jim later, McCoy and Chapel stood around their patient’s bed, waiting for some kind of reaction to the fluid filling his lungs.

But instead, as the sky-blue liquid was pouring in, Jim’s eyes just bounced around the room, frequently making strange noises through the invasion in his throat.

McCoy watched Jim’s curious face for a second longer before turning his head back to the monitor.

“Seems alright so far. I think the oxygen going through the nasal mask is helping,” he glanced back down to Jim, eying the small rubber mask over Jim’s nose, feeding in a mix of oxygen and nitrous, despite the fact his lungs weren’t working. He was bound to start struggling soon.

“Can he feel it going in?” Chapel asked, herself too watching Jim’s face for any sign of distress, but there didn’t seem to be any, to both of their surprise.

“Apparently not, but he’s drugged to the damn high heavens on nitrous.”

The only saving grace in this entire procedure was the fact that Jim seemed completely out of it.

Every now and then the kid’s eyes would flick to either side of his head as if suddenly hearing something, but other than that he was strangely calm.

Biobed monitors were beeping calm and steadily, giving the illusion that there was nothing wrong with him at all.

After another minute, the solution had finished emptying into Jim’s lungs, and the only sign of a reaction from Jim was a hitch in a single halted breath, and then nothing.

McCoy frowned, realising how badly the kid’s vitals was fluctuating all over the place, waiting for something to go wrong.

Because something _always_ went wrong with Jim.

“When do we start draining it?” one of his nurses asked him, and he flicked his eyes up to glance at her.

“When his vitals have finished fluctuating.”

It was odd to think that Jim’s lungs were currently full of blue fluid right now. Just sitting there…swishing around.

“Is there any danger to keeping him down that long?”

He huffed, “Don’t really have a choice. Keep up the oxygen flow and wait for the meds to finish the job.”

The blue fluid was going to, apparently, according to _Ruri_ of all people, kill the rest of the toxins that had made themselves at home in Jim’s lungs. Hopefully _then_ they’ll be able to start on their own; and he can get off the damn ventilator.

Why McCoy was trusting someone that was associated with the bastard that tortured the broken man currently lying on his table, he had no idea.

A radiant green light caught the corner of his eye before the alarms even began screeching, and suddenly the red warning signs that were causing anxiety across the room dimmed out to nothing.

Turning his head slightly, McCoy watched the single green light pulse once a second, before multiple green orbs began lighting up the biobed monitor.

Almost instantaneously, among the screeching noises of the alarms, Jim began writhing on the bed, making awful choking sounds that would have made the doctor panic if it wasn’t for the green lights of reassurance plastered all over the monitors.

Still, those green lights will soon turn red if they didn’t get that tube out of his throat.

“It’s worked, he’s started breathin’ again,” McCoy announced, quickly stepping to Jim’s bedside again and pressing multiple buttons to begin draining the liquid.

_Shouldn’t have even started again until the damn liquid was drained._

_Only you, Jim._

“He’s not ready yet!” a nurse shouted in alarm, darting to the head of the biobed and grabbing a selection of hypos that she probably didn’t even check the name of.

“Don’t give him anything,” McCoy ordered, making sure Jim would be left alone to recover in his own way, “His vitals are stable, but the tube needs to come out.”

“There’s still fluid in his lungs, sir,”

McCoy grunted, “I know that!” it wasn’t draining fast enough.

Still, Jim was kicking around on the table like a toddler in a playpen, beginning to rattle the restraints loudly and causing more unrest among McCoy’s medical team.

It must feel like suffocating, with this contraption stuck in his throat.

McCoy bit his lip, unable to do anything at all except wait for the liquid to finish draining.

He took Jim’s flailing hand, “It’s alright, Jim, just a couple more minutes and you’ll be fine.”

To his surprise, Jim’s head turned to face him, eyes lit up in recognition, surprised he was actually understanding him through all the drugs he was on.

Perhaps the whole ordeal was making him power through it.

“It’s clear, taking the device out now.”

 _Thank god,_ he thought to himself, quickly wrapping hands around the end of the long tube and giving it a light tug.

The action caused a trigger to set off, the expanded device shortening from the other end, shrinking back into the front of the tube until the end of it slipped out from his throat, sending him coughing and spluttering over himself.

While the other nurses busied themselves with locking the tube back into its original packed cube-like form, McCoy kept his eye on the monitor for any downfalls, not ignoring the quiet moans he could hear from the blonde in front of him.

“You’re alright,” he murmured to Jim, not taking his eye off the biobed monitor. He didn’t trust it. “You’re alright.”

Despite the fact the tube had been removed, McCoy could still hear him straining and grunting. He glanced down to Jim, frowning when he noticed the red marks cutting into Jim’s wrists from straining against the restraint material too much.

“Christ, Jim,” he murmured, leaning over him and ripping the restraints off, “Just don’t get out of bed, okay?”

It was odd that the kid was so aware considering how dosed up he was on nitrous. It was probably something to do with the lingering effects of the liquid.

Immediately upon his newfound freedom, Jim reached for the mask over his nose, and McCoy nearly jumped out of his skin, “ _Don’t-!”_

Jim froze and glanced up at him.

“Don’t touch that, god damn it,” he stalked to the back of the bed and shut the gas off, “You’ll make everyone else in the room pass out.”

Jim apparently realised that the high-pitched hiss of the gas had stopped as he started tugging for it again.

Now that it was much safer, McCoy let him do so.

He could let him stay awake for a few minutes at least. But his body needed the rest after what it had just been through.

“…’ones?”

He breathed a sigh of relief, “Yeah?” his vitals were perfectly stable.

Jim was blinking sluggishly at him, as if trying to pool some words together but getting stuck. His eyes drifted off to stare at the floor again, looking lost for words.

“…What ‘appened?” he just about managed to hear Jim slur, still staring at the mattress as if it was the finest craftsmanship ever made.

McCoy gazed at Jim for a while, before deciding to pull up a stool and sit beside him to talk.

“We rescued your dumb ass from Cadel, to put it shortly.”

Jim gazed up at him tiredly, before his head dropped back down to the pillow again in exhaustion. Clearly he was in no mood to talk.

“M’tired,” the blonde muffled into the pillow, eyes drooping shut already.

Natural instinct told McCoy that something was seriously wrong, something at the back of his mind shouting _he’s going into cardiac arrest!_ But yet, the monitors were still beeping at a steady pace and nothing seemed off.

“Hey, you need a break?”

McCoy shot around, not expecting to find M’Benga standing behind him.

“Uh…no, I’m good,” he replied, turning back to Jim again, “I need to stay with him.”

There was an awkward silence, and McCoy knew M’Benga hadn’t moved, probably planning to say something else to get him out the room.

“You’ve been in surgery for hours and he’s breathing on his own now, give it a rest.”

McCoy frowned at Jim, not particularly because of _him_ but because of the stubborn doctor behind him, trying to get him to leave.

He wasn’t going to take a break until Jim woke up again. In perfect health. If that were even possible.

“I need to make sure he doesn’t relapse,” McCoy defended himself, as if every other doctor and nurse in the facility was unqualified to notice Jim’s vitals dropping.

“I can do that. I’ll take over until you get back.”

McCoy pursed his lips, not looking away from Jim’s sleeping form.

_He’s pushing me to leave but damn it, I don’t want to._

“Doctor…” M’Benga warned, “If something happens and he needs you, you’re not going to be much help barely functional.”

True, but he needed to be here in case Jim woke up. And besides, he had work to do with him.

That settled it.

“He needs a full invasive body scan to ensure there are no toxins remaining,” McCoy decided, turning around and purposefully avoiding eye-contact with M’Benga, looking straight towards a series of doors.

“You _know_ I can do that myself.”

M’Benga was starting to get on his nerves.

He bit his tongue, “Thanks for the concern, M’Benga, but I can do this on my own. Once he’s awake, I’ll go take a nap. Alright?”

Some part of his body was screaming at him to accept the offer and actually get some sleep, and the logical side of his brain was joining in on the request too.

But his gut told him to stay with Jim; anxiety would probably keep him awake anyway.

M’Benga groaned and threw his hands up, “Fine. Okay. But if you need a break, you know where to find me.”

McCoy grunted his acknowledgement and turned back to Jim, beginning to unlock the gravity stabilisers so the biobed could be used as a hoverbed.

He shouted over to M’Benga before he could leave, “I’m gonna need some help getting him in there, though!”

There was a heavy sigh, and even with his back turned against him McCoy could tell M’Benga was rolling his eyes.

As the other doctor approached the end of the bed, McCoy gently pressed a hypo into Jim’s neck.

“Should keep him asleep,” he explained, grabbing the other side of the bed and nodding at the other man to begin walking.

* * *

 

Going to sleep was like a vivid dream. He remembered Bones and a couple of other white-clad doctors crowding around his bed, but he wasn’t sure if that was a dream.

Upon waking up, everything was still very fuzzy, and for a moment he was sure he was still dreaming.

He was laying on something much more comfortable than he was last time for sure. He was probably lying in his _real_ bed, his proper bed, so perhaps he wasn’t dreaming.

Perhaps the last dream was actually a nightmare, as whatever he was laying on last time was very rock hard and he couldn’t move.

Oh, right, he couldn’t move.

In some dulled panic, he tried to move his arm, expecting it to still be paralysed but was pleasantly surprised when it moved freely.

Maybe it was a nightmare after all, and he was only just waking up.

 

“Hey, buddy,” a voice called out to him, echoing across the room. His mind pieced together that this meant the room had to be large somewhat, without any carpeting, and certainly not his quarters to cause the words to echo.

Another few moments later, and his mind finally registered the voice belonged to Bones.

Sighing quietly, he shuffled around whatever he was laying on—it certainly didn’t feel like a bed, but it was very comfortable.

“Try not to move around too much, we’re still scanning.”

_Scanning? For what?_

“So far so good, but we need to complete it, just to be on the safe side.”

Jim swallowed hard, forcing his fingers to move, then hauled his heavy arm from his side onto his chest. He weakly clawed at the material he was covered with, realising it was definitely not a Captain’s shirt.

Perhaps he was on shore leave? It could explain the comfortable ‘bed’, too.

“Did-ja renovate my hotel room?” Jim mumbled, sure as hell that he was probably on vacation somewhere nice with Bones and Spock. Wherever Spock was. Probably doing Spock things.

He heard the accompanying man scoff, “ _Did I renovate the hotel room?_ Dammit, Jim, of all the things you could’ve asked me.”

His friend was talking in a joking tone, although there was a hint of tightness to it, as if anxious about something. Probably that Bones preferred to be on a spaceship…

…No that’s not right.

He preferred to be with patients.

Yes.

He had an ill patient and was with Jim instead, so he was rightfully worried about them. Of course.

“ _How did it go?_ You could’ve asked me. _Where am I?_ You could’ve asked me. _Why am I here? What are you doing? Why is there a scan—”_

“But it’s comfy!” Jim interrupted, shuffling around on the luxurious object in which he was seated.

“Uh-huh. Jim, it’s a damn exam chair. You’re not in a bed.”

Jim blinked his eyes open at that.

The ceiling was white. The walls were white.

Bones’ uniform was white.

The floor was white.

And the chair he was reclined on was yellow.

“M’ not on vacation?”

Obviously not, going by the look on Bones’ face.

“God, I wish, Jim. No, you’re getting a scan. Why would I be scanning you in a hotel room?”

Jim paused for a second, then frowned, “In case I was allergic to the paint?”

“Why the hell would I paint a hotel room?”

“You renovated it, right?”

“No!” Bones shouted in exasperation, throwing his hands up, “We’re on the Enterprise! We’ve not been on shore leave for three months!”

Jim turned his head to the side, trying to get a good look at his seat.

It might just be a medical chair, but it sure as hell was comfier than any other padded object he had ever sat on in his life.

“But I thought we were in a hotel…”

Bones voice almost made him jump, “We’re not in a damn hotel! Christ, Jim. And stop moving.”

Jim considered how the chair’s colour matched the colour of his captain’s shirt. So…yellow.

“You’re probably still out of it because of the nitrous,” Bones was explaining from the other side of the chair, “Should have gotten over it by now, but this doesn’t surprise me.”

Jim narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember what had happened earlier. If he wasn’t on shore leave, why did he end up here?

He began to sit up, but immediately fell back down again.

That seat was very plush. And bouncy.

Jim leaned forward slightly, then let himself fall onto it.

_Bouncy._

“Good god, man, are you deaf? Stop moving!”

He ignored the ranting man, and continued on his crusade to see how bouncy this chair was.

Interested, he leaned forward, then climbed from his back onto his hands and knees, regardless of hearing Bones yelling at him in the distance. He drowned that noise out, this was _much_ more interesting.

Bones began practically yelling into his ear, “You don’t wanna ignore me, Jim. My mama taught me how to truss a turkey, and believe me you’re gonna be turkey trussing practice if you don’t sit your fuckin’ flyin’ legs still!”

Jim ignored him and pressed his fingers over the yellow material, then gazed up at McCoy.

“Wha’sis made of?”

McCoy looked gobsmacked for a second, stuttering on words before scoffing, “What’s this made…Jim, why the hell would I know the ins and outs of a chair? I’m a doctor!”

He rolled onto his side and patted the seat happily. “But you use it a lot. Maybe I’m allergic to it.”

“You might as well be considering the way you’re behaving.”

He wanted to know what it was made of, so he could request a replacement for his quarters. And the mess hall. And the captain chair. And everything that required him to sit on it.

“But I wanna know what’s in it,” he mumbled comfortably laying on his side and letting his eyes droop.

“You’re not even supposed to move your hand, and you’ve climbed all over the damn thing like it’s a monkey frame!”

“But wha’s’innit?”

Light footsteps tapped over in front of him, a pair of large warm hands grabbing his head and forcing it upright, while Jim continued trying to twist back onto his side.

“Move…your damned…head…”

Jim shook his head out of the doctor’s hands and remained on his side. “No,”

“I can’t do this until you’re absolutely still!”

“I am still!”

“I can’t scan you on your damned side!”

“Find a way! I’m staying here.”

He heard a sharp inhale and a curse.

“ _Dammit, Jim.”_

 

A door hissed open and shut.

 

“What’d you want?” his irritable friend asked the intruder.

“Sir, there’s a request from the brig to speak to you. They say it’s from Cadel,” a pause, and silence from both men.

“They say it’s about Jim.”

 

* * *

 **Did you enjoy this piece of textual work? Do you desire it's continuation? It is only logical therefore to leave a kudos or comment.**  (please)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's methods of proving to Bones he's fit for duty don't go down well, meanwhile Cadel isn't quite ready to give up his crusade to capture Jim just yet.

_“Dammit, Jim.”_

_A door opened and shut._

_“What’d you want?” Bones asked the intruder._

_“Sir, there’s a request from the brig to speak to you. They say it’s from Cadel,” a pause, and silence from both men._

_“They say it’s about Jim.”_

* * *

 

Jim froze, lucidity suddenly coming back to him.

“Bones…”

A million thoughts ran through Jim’s head. What did Cadel want from him now? Had he done something to him that he’d kept hidden? Was there a new implant while he was asleep?

The doctor sighed, “Stay here, Jim,” and followed the red-clad security guard out of the room, leaving Jim alone in the room.

Which, frankly, he didn’t feel was a good idea.

Admittedly, he didn’t feel _safe._

He wanted to be with someone at all times…as pathetic as that sounded. He wanted to be with Bones, or Spock. Someone that could protect him.

Hopefully that insecurity would dig itself back into the crevasses of his mind once Cadel had left.

 

Slumping back down flat onto the suspiciously-comfy-chair that had more cushion than his own bed, Jim gazed up at the large spherical object above him. There was a small blinking red light, knowing it was warning Bones that whatever scan he had been trying to do was disrupted by Jim’s fidgeting.

Deciding he had nothing better to do until Bones came back, Jim thought he might as well do the scan again…Bones would do it when he got back anyway.

Having no idea how to work the system, he shuffled up the chair and lay stone still, hoping that whatever the machine was, was automatic.

To his relief, the red blinking became a constant happy green, and vaguely he could hear a low humming noise emitting from the overhead mystery object.

Hopefully Bones would be pleased with him for doing it on his own. His friend _knew_ very well how much Jim detested medical equipment—hypos, physicals, scans, the whole lot.

He didn’t know where this sudden desire for appreciation came from, but he hoped it take away some of the anxiety.

Moments later, the door hissed open again, revealing Bones stomping into the room with a scowl upon his face. That scowl instantly dropped to a soft smirk when he saw what Jim was doing. He strode over to him.

“You able to work that thing on your own? That’s real good. You can do your own damn physicals instead of ditching me for a month.”

Jim rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to turn and face him, not wanting the green light to turn red, as that’d mean he’d have to do the scan for a third time.

“What did Cadel want?” he asked instead, his eyes focused on the green light.

He heard Bones’ footsteps grow closer to him before he disappeared behind his head.

“Well, he tried to make us a deal,” Bones put simply; Jim had no idea what the doctor was doing behind him.

“What kinda deal?” Not something to hide from him…he hoped.

“Said he’d save your life and fix you up good as new if he could ‘keep’ you. Like a damn rat,” his friend’s voice was turning dark, angry, “Bastard doesn’t know we’ve already fixed you. _I’ve_ fixed you.”

A pause.

“So, he said he’d wanted to show me new medical interventions, to advance medical science.”

Jim blinked. Why would Cadel want to do that if he wanted to kill him?

“And?”

Bones scoffed, “I ain’t teaming up with that smug sunovabitch, even if it made me the best surgeon in the whole damn universe.”

Jim considered this, “But Bones, you could help hundreds more people with all the extra equipment,” he reasoned, “I mean, the amount of crew members that get fatally injured on away missions would be decreased dramatically if you knew what he knew! It doesn’t matter _who_ you learned it from!”

“Dammit Jim!” Bones shouted, Jim wincing as his ears vibrated, “I’m not using knowledge from that sadist! Besides, he wanted to show me how to do it himself.”

“You don’t trust him? Ask Spock to surround him with security guards.” It was a simple enough solution.

“ _No,_ Jim,” Bones hissed, “He wanted to show me on _you._ He wanted _me_ to do all these crazy new techniques on _you!”_ there was silence while both men tried to think of a reply.

Jim bit his lip, “But Bones—”

“I said _no,_ Jim!” his friend shouted, eyes widening in frustration, “I’m not letting him hurt you for the sake of some moronic redshirts on a ship!”

Jim bulked, “They’re not moronic! They’re on the front line and it’s their job to protect me!”

McCoy slammed his hand on the biobed rail, “It’s _Spock’s_ job to protect you, and he’s doin’ damn well fine!”

Jim watched Bones’ fuming face for a second before retreating behind a pillow and staring at the scanner light above him instead. Cadel would probably be hunting him down as long as he continue to step foot on ground.

“…I think he wants to kill me,” Jim mumbled, his eyes drifting away from the green light.

“Yeah, no shit!”

Jim still didn’t entirely understand why Cadel was hellbent on killing him. Perhaps at this point just a fatal dose of paracetamol ought to do it. Why resort to such drastic sadistic methods?

His eyes flicked back to the scanner above him when the green light suddenly went out. He was about to panic, thinking he’d have to do it again before Bones spoke up.

“Finally. It’s done. Hang on.”

_Took long enough. Sitting still is painful._

Jim stretched around on the chair and eventually rolled onto his front, trying to use his knees to make him kneel.

He turned towards Bones, leaning over the railing behind the chair, watching the doctor’s very thoughtful face.

Considering Bones’ face was a natural scowl, Jim couldn’t tell whether he was happy with the results or not.

“Well, seems to be okay,” Bones exclaimed, twisting the monitor around so Jim could see, “Nothing deadly showing up here. Although of course the scan unfortunately can’t pick up recklessness.”

Jim silently was relieved by the results, but raised a cocky eyebrow, “Sounds fatal, doc.”

McCoy scoffed, “Yeah, it would be,” he grunted, “I happen to be the damn antidote.”

Jim snickered under his breath and turned away, slipping off the chair and onto his feet.

“What’d you guys do with Cadel?”

Bones shrugged, turning the monitor off and leading Jim towards the exit, _thank god_ , “He’s still in the brig. Gonna drop him and Ruri off at the nearest Starbase.”

Jim bounced in front of him, blocking the exit, “So am I clear for duty!?”

Bones blinked at him, then lazily shrugged a shoulder, “Yeah, go on. But take it easy, ya hear? I’m releasing you for bridge work only, no landing party nonsense,” he gave him a stern look, then added for good measure, “And you’re running half your shift for at least a week.”

The news had started off great but quickly spiralled down-hill.

Jim whined, “But Bones! I feel fine! Your medical thingies said I’m fine! You said I’m fine! I’m—”

“Not to mention you’re still recovering from the nitrous,” he paused, “That’s probably why you can’t feel anything. Actually, I shouldn’t release you for duty yet…”

Jim shook his head and jumped in the way again as Bones continued walking to the exit, “Bones, I _need_ to _do_ something! I can’t sit on a biobed any longer, _please…”_

Bones was unrelenting, “Then you could be released to your quarters and start catching up on paperwork.”

Jim utterly felt like a child complaining to a parent.

Then out of desperation, made an offer he knew he’d regret, “After my half-shift I’ll come down to medbay and you can scan me?”

Bones stopped walking and stared at Jim at that.

“You seriously offerin’ to let me give you a physical outside of schedule?”

Jim bulked, “A _scan,_ no physical.”

Bones watched him a while longer, before his shoulders slumped, ensuring Jim to know that he’d won that argument.

“Fine. After the ‘shift’ you come straight up to me. If you’re not here ten minutes after it ends, the deals off and you’re stuck in your quarters for a week. Understand?”

Jim nodded tastefully and moved out of the way, allowing Bones to finally stomp out of the room.

Somehow, Jim always ended up getting his way. Bones probably had a soft spot for him.

* * *

 

Spock glared inconspicuously at Jim from across the room, noticing the tense way he held himself in his chair.

Surely he cannot be released for duty already, could he? Only hours ago he was in respiratory arrest; yesterday being held captive.

Yet here the Captain was, sitting in his chair and ordering the crew around cheerfully as if nothing had happened.

On eyes that only Spock’s superiority could see, there was a sheen contour of sweat across Jim’s forehead, his jaw clenched as if in pain.

It was possible Jim had underestimated himself and the drugs were beginning to wear off, the pain ebbing back into his system, but refusing to acknowledge it.

Spock however refused to _ignore_ it, deciding that if Jim’s outward appearance hadn’t changed within the next ten point seven minutes, he would contact Dr McCoy.

Jim grit his teeth, forcing himself to sit up straight, “What’s our ETA to Starbase T12?”

There was a pause as their navigators looked over the console, “About 3 earth hours, Captain,” Sulu replied.

The Captain grunted, his fingers growing white as his knuckles clenched around the armrests.

“Alright,” he said quietly, slowly pushing himself back into the chair and taking a deep breath.  
While doing so, he twitched his head to the side, making eye-contact with Spock.

Spock assumed it was an accident, as Jim just quickly shifted his eyes back to the main viewer, sitting hunched in his chair.

“Captain.” He announced, getting the attention of every crew-member in the room, unfortunately.

He briefly saw Jim roll his eyes in irritation, probably knowing that Spock saw through his fake health act, and turned to him, jaw clenched.

“Yes, mister Spock?” his eyes were stern.

“Are you alright?”

Jim pursed his lips, “Yeah, I’m fine,” he stated, despite the sweat plastered all over his tense face.

“You look unwell,” Spock deduced, ignoring the gawking looks of the rest of the crew, “Perhaps you should visit Dr McCoy?”

The attempt to get him help was always futile, but it was important to be known that he had asked anyway in case something unfortunate were to happen.

“I’ll see him after my shift,” Jim obviously lied, turning back to the main view screen and sighing slowly, as if not to disturb an injury.

Spock frowned, watching Jim for a while longer before making his decision.

His first priority was to the captain’s safety, not to the captain’s _ego,_ and Jim certainly didn’t look very…safe…right now.

He opened a channel to sickbay, “Bridge to Dr McCoy.”

The Captain whipped around instantly, “ _Spock!”_

“McCoy here, Spock, what is it?” the voice was grouchy but had a hint of worry, likely and correctly assuming that the call was something to do with Jim.                               

Jim piped up loudly, “Bones, it’s a prank call!”

Spock turned to Jim, “Captain, I am not prank calling—”

“Forget it, Spock,” McCoy’s voice piped through the console, “I’ll be right there.”

The second the channel was closed, Spock turned and saw Jim instantly slump his head back resignedly against the chair, clearly giving into his fate.

Upon realising the crew had now turned their attention to the slouched Captain, Spock made eye-contact with them individually, “Return to your stations. There is nothing to see.”

Silently, everyone swung their chairs back around to their posts, leaving Spock to continue eying Jim, ensuring that he would not suddenly get up and make a hasty exit before the doctor arrived.

He did however seem quite content to just slouch in his chair and do absolutely nothing.

 

_Swoosh._

Ah. He has arrived.

Spock noticed Jim’s arms suddenly becoming tense again, as if the good doctor was going to walk over there and haul him out of his chair.

Out of the corner of his eye, he realised that McCoy was just standing idly in the turbolift, door open, not taking a step out of it.

After a moment had passed, and Jim still hadn’t moved from his position, the doctor spoke up.

“Jim. With me. _Now.”_

He saw Jim scowl uncomfortably. “That’s _Captain_ to you, Bones.”

McCoy grunted, “And that’s _McCoy_ to you, _Captain,”_ he hissed the latter word sarcastically, and began tapping a finger on the wall, to Spock’s irritation. “C’mon, Jim, before I drag you out myself.”

The Captain grumbled something incoherently under his breath that not even Spock could decipher, before the blonde finally pulled himself up from the chair and shuffled over, like a human child in trouble with their guardian.

How this man was ever mentally fit to be a captain, he did not know.

“That’s it,” McCoy encouraged, stepping out of the way to make sure Jim went into the turbolift first, “Why I ever agreed to this, I have no idea. Look at you, sweating as if you’ve just run a damn hundred-mile marathon. Though I bet even with that, you wouldn’t break a sweat, you…”  the voice faded out as the doors closed, leaving Spock rightfully in command for the bridge now.

Spock internally sighed, and lifted himself from his chair. “I am resuming command of the Enterprise as acting Captain, as Kirk is deemed unfit for duty,” he announced, sitting in the chair that Jim just vacated, “Continue on course to Starbase T12.”

“Yes sir.”

 

* * *

 

Bones was on a tangent.

 

“I shoulda put a damned med-bracelet on you. The second Spock called me, I damn well knew what a mistake I made. You got me wrapped around your little finger you little shit—”

“Bones,” Jim moaned, head pounding from McCoy’s endless ranting ever since he entered the turbolift.

He was now in sickbay, laying on a biobed, and McCoy was still going on.

“What?” Bones’ face moved over above his, blissfully blocking the massive circular light above him.

“…stop…”

He frowned, “Stop what? Stop lecturin’ you ‘cause you were being a careless idiot? I think—"

Jim groaned, “Just _stop…_ ’ave a headache…”

“Oh,” Bones shrugged, grabbing his trusty hypo of devastation, “Why didn’t you just say so?” and immediately jammed it into Jim’s neck before he could react.

“Ugh…”

Bones disposed of the weapon on the tray, “Should get a kick out of that in a few minutes,”

He glanced at the monitor on the wall for a while, before turning back to Jim, “Ya got a fever. _Ya got a damned fever._ Congratulations, Jim, you’re in here for another three days.”

Well, that explained why he was sweating so bad. But he swore that he was supposed to be shivering. Usually that was what happened when he was ill.

“No shakes?” he mumbled nearly incoherently into the fluffy pillow. It was a luxury item compared to the metal bed with a thin excuse of a sheet thrown over it.

Bones smirked, “No, there’ll be no shakin’. You got a temperature, that’s it.”

Jim nodded half-heartedly, letting his eyes flutter shut. At the back of his mind, he wondered if Bones had drugged him with a sedative instead of a pain-reliever, considering how fast he was becoming fatigued.

“Night, Jim.”

_Of course he did._

* * *

 

One certain tired doctor watched Jim’s slow descent into slumber as his brainwaves finally evened out.

He glanced up from under his eyebrows, “ _Nurse!_ Hook the Captain up on fluids and do a blood draw to be safe,” he ordered, tugging Jim’s sweat-soaked sleeve up to his elbow. His arm had half-healed scars littered all over his skin. “He’s got a fever and I want to make sure it’s nothin’ too bad.”

_I really should talk to him about that…_

Chapel immediately trenched over, glanced down at Jim, then back up to the CMO, “So that’s why you knocked him out?” she teased.

McCoy shrugged, “He would’a just pulled out the IV and whined about the blood draw until my ears bled.”

Which was true—Jim couldn’t even take a hypo without complaining, actual medical procedures, no matter how small, would probably turn nasty. Better to leave him out of it.

Chapel plugged an IV into Jim’s sleeping form, running a fresh load of fluids into his system.

“With any luck the sweating is just from lack of fluids and exhaustion,” she said, watching the liquid drip into the tube.

McCoy rubbed the back of his neck and stared at Jim, “It better be. I don’t know if he can afford another setback,” he sighed, a twinge of relief settling into his stomach when his temperature dropped down by one, “He just wants to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Chapel seemed to have noticed the improving vitals too, her tense shoulders relaxing, although hopefully she was still ‘on guard’. The human body was unpredictable.

As he watched the nurse leave, McCoy turned his attention back to Jim, who was sleeping peacefully. No complaining, whining, moaning.

Bliss.

 _Beep-beep! Beep-beep!_ The communicator.

_Of course._

Grumbling profanity, he whipped the communicator out of his pocket and flung it open.

“McCoy here.”

“Spock here, doctor. Please alert Kirk that we have arrived at Starbase T12.”

McCoy snorted.

_He ain’t even the Captain anymore, you are, Spock. How ‘illogical’._

The doctor decided to avoid an argument, “Will do, Spock.”

Acting Captain Spock didn’t elaborate anything further than that. Clearly, McCoy wasn’t needed on the starbase, thank god.

Or perhaps he was, but Spock thought he was more of use in here with Jim.

Although there were other doctors on duty that could help him…

_Well damn, the stubborn hobgoblin has a heart after all. Who would’ve known._

“Spock out.”

The transmission ended, leaving static noises blasting out of his comm.

He pursed his lips, flipping the device shut and pocketing it away, looking back over to Jim…

 

Looking at Jim, hurt.

 

Every time he made eye-contact with his friend passed out on a biobed, tubes attached to his body and machines beeping, there was an instant pang of fear in his chest.

Fear, guilt, panic; and it gave him a brief shock every time.

 _He’ll drag himself out of that sedation in no time,_ he taunted to himself, _Stubborn bastard just won’t stay down._

He was about to smile down at Jim before it all happened at once—the room dimmed red, klaxons blaring from walls—red alert.

_Shit._

“Attention Enterprise crew. Upon approaching orbit to Starbase T12, our prisoner that we are to transit to hold in the intergalactic prison…”

_My god, just get to the damn point._

“…escaped and is now running loose within the ship.”

_Shit. Shit! Jim!_

“Please shoot to stun and alert the security team immediately if you identify the prisoner, known as Cadel. Acting Captain Spock out.”

Breath hitched in his throat, McCoy whizzed over to Jim and unlocked the restraints from under the bed, pulling them out and over the bed to effectively strap Jim down tightly, carefully avoiding the IV tubes.

If Cadel were ever to find him, his restrained body would give the crew an extra few vital seconds to get there and prevent a catastrophe.

“Doctor McCoy!” a voice yelled from behind him, instantly recognised to be Chapel, “Is the Captain secure?”

McCoy was currently in a dilemma with whether to wake Jim up.

On one hand, he could become overwhelmed and freak out, although if not, could be able to fend himself off. On the other hand, if he was asleep on the biobed, he was defenceless if Cadel got to him.

“Yeah, as secure as he can be,” he answered, storming over the vial contents and inserting a vial to slowly bring Jim around safely. Considering the powerful drug he was knocked out with, hitting him with adrenaline could throw his heart out of whack. Again.

“You’re going to wake him up? Is that wise?”

“He’s defenceless if Cadel manages to get through us. At least if he’s awake, he has a chance,” McCoy explained, frantically rushing with the vials.

“Will he even be able to defend himself properly with the sedatives still flowing in his system?”

McCoy bit his cheek, “I’m trying to reverse it. He’ll wake up in his own time and it might be too late if Cadel finds him by then, but the sedatives will be gone and it’s much safer in his state.”

His nurse nodded, approaching Jim’s IV, “Do we keep running the fluids?”

He nodded back, “Yeah, keep it going for as long as you can. If news surfaces that Cadel is on our deck, stop the fluids and remove the IV,” he ordered, typing in a few commands to the system, “Jim should be awake by then with the medication finishing its course.”

Confident that he was making the right decision, McCoy pressed the _dispense_ command and allowed the new drugs to begin flowing through Jim’s IV.

Hopefully he will wake up soon, without the grogginess, and with a little luck, without the panicking.

_For the love of god, Cadel, don’t come in here…_

_Don’t find Jim…_

_Even though he’s the reason you’re searching the damn ship…_

“Doctor?” Chapel brought him back to reality, “Is there anything you want us to do?”

He nodded. Being CMO meant he had to control the safety of his medbay.

“Call down to security and get three of ‘em up here. I want two inside the door and one with Jim.”

Chapel frowned, “ _Inside_ the medbay, doctor?”

_Yes Chapel, inside the damned medbay._

“Cadel is lookin’ for Jim. If we post two security guards outside the entrance, he’ll know Jim is in here,” he reasoned, watching Jim closely as his brainwaves began to pick up again, “It’s a big fat red fuckin’ sign screaming ‘your hostage is in here!’”

Chapel didn’t question him further, obviously agreeing to his plan and darting out the private bay to main sickbay to contact the security personnel.

Jim’s vitals were rapidly beginning to pick up again, showing that he was soon to return to consciousness.

_You’re damn lucky. You’re gonna be awake whether Cadel gets in here or not._

 

* * *

 

 

Jim always woke up command ready. It was almost hammered into him from the academy, as part of his _command_ track. The ability to wake up command ready in 0.3 seconds.

But this time when his consciousness surfaced, he knew he hadn’t woken up in time.

Klaxons were blaring, people were shouting orders, distantly he could hear the tannoy speakers barking, and upon opening his eyes, the room was flashing red.

Jim instantly shot up into action to protect his crew—only to be forced back down again.

He whipped his head to the side, desperate to get up and running, to see that there were straps running over his body that left him hardly any room to move.

Seconds later, another alarm sounded, but was much closer—louder.

This was soon followed by a man in blue—Bones, striding over.

“Jim! Calm down, we’re all ready for him here,” his friend ordered, not making eye-contact with him, only watching something over his head.

“Ready for who?” he croaked, wincing at the frailty of his voice. How long had he been out?

“Cadel,” Bones put simply, eyes finally looking down to meet Jim’s and frowning, “You alright?”

Jim nodded slowly, trying to figure out why people were ‘ready for Cadel’ before the realisation hit him.

“…’scaped?” Damn, he sounded weak.

Bones pursed his lips grimly, “Yeah, he’s escaped,” he rested his chin on his hand in thought, “We’ve arrived at Starbase T12. Bastard got out when we tried to transfer him over.”

Jim was paying no attention, only gaping at the straps over his body. Bones didn’t seem to care.

“Why’m I held down?”

The doctor sighed, “Because it’s safer for you. Gives us a few extra seconds.”

Jim frowned, “It’s tight…” The belt was strangling his stomach.

Bones looked apologetic, “I know. But he’s after you, Jim. We need to keep you safe.”

“By strapping me down?” he was helpless in this position. At least free he could defend himself…protect his crew.

“M’sorry, Jim. I know ya don’t like it,” Bones murmured, then slightly smiled, a rare sight during a dimmed red room, “But your fever is gone. That three-hour nap did you a world of good.”

“So can I go?” he asked, pushing at the restraints in an attempt to sit up.

Bones pressed his lips together, “I don’t know if ya strong enough yet, kid,” he reasoned, glancing over the straps and back to Jim’s face in uncertainty.

Jim smirked, “Arm wrestle? If I win then you let me go.”

Bones snorted, looking around the room in disbelief and shaking his head back to Jim, “You’re a damn infant, Jim, you know that?”

_Anything to get out of this freaking prison._

“Sure. Let’s do it,” he urged, tugging at the arm restraints enthusiastically.

Bones rolled his eyes, ripping the strap on Jim’s left arm back with ease and grabbing his hand.

“If I win, you’re staying here. Just so we’re clear.”

Jim shrugged, “Yeah yeah, whatever,” and wrenched his arm forward to struggle against McCoy’s.

A strange way to prove that you’re fit for duty, but it wasn’t like Bones was going to let him go back to the bridge any time soon.

“Jesus, kid,” Bones grunted, struggling under Jim’s hard grip, “Ya muscles are really somethin’, huh.”

Jim wiggled his eyebrows and yanked Bones’ arm down onto the blanket in ten seconds flat.

“See, I win. Can I go now?”

Glaring, Bones tensed his jaw before sighing in resignation. “Fine,” he snarled light-heartedly, “But no duties. Only did this knowing you could defend yourself.”

Jim smirked, “I hardly think that Cadel’s way of weapon is to arm wrestle me,” he jested, watching in glee as Bones stripped the straps away.

“Well, if ya complaining, I’m happy to fasten ‘em back down again.”

Jim paled, “ _No._ No, I’m fine. Was a joke.”

Bones smiled despite himself, “I know you were. Here,” he gestured to the end of the bed, patting it gently, “Sit up.”

Jim slowly hauled himself up, now free of the straps, sitting up on the end of the bed and resting his head against the wall.

“Should I go look for him?”

Bones flopped down next to Jim, “No, dammit. If we can get away with him not finding you before security catches him, I’ll take that.”

Jim nodded sluggishly, the wall rubbing against his head.

“I just feel pretty useless here, y’know? I’m supposed to be the captain but I’m not doing—”

**_BANG!_ **

“ _SHIT!”_

Muffled yelling and screaming surrounded the room outside Jim’s private bay.

Jim’s heart thudded in his chest as chaos ensued only twenty metres away.

_Cadel found me._

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck._

_Why am I suddenly so scared of him?_

There was a deafening _ROAR_ , before phaser fire began hammering walls, the sound of bodies thumping the floor invaded his ears.

Jim tensed up and grabbed his doctor, “Bones—”

“It’s alright, stay here,” Bones soothed, sliding off the bed in an instant and stepping towards a tray of equipment. A couple of hyposprays loaded with sedatives was all he was armed with.

“Bones…”

He found himself unable to say anything else. Bones didn’t reply.

A hoarse scream calling out Jim’s name throttled the men’s ears, “ _CAPTAIN!”_

Jim’s fingers curled around the bed sheets, all hope of going into command-ready fight mode out the window.

Soon—too soon— _WHAM!_

The locked door was up in flames, before quickly diminishing and leaving a giant hole in the middle.

Inside it was a figure. A beaten, bleeding figure. But it was recognisable as someone they both knew.

“Bones…”

“Give him to me. _Now.”_

“I don’t think so, buddy. I tried pretty damn hard to heal him after all the crap you pulled last—”

 _“NOW!_ Don’t get in my way, you’re just collateral damage.”

“Bones, get out of his way.”

McCoy stepped backwards towards Jim—then lunged forward with hypo in hand—

_SMACK!_

Bones’ body collapsed onto the floor with a _thump._

“You actually thought that would work? You thought that hasn’t been tried before?” Cadel roared, Bones moaning as the thump in his shoulder caused pain that was beginning to catch up with him.

“Everyone in that other room just tried the same thing. You guys aren’t very creative,” the scientist then added, “Give me the Captain.”

When neither man moved, Cadel rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourselves—” and lunged at the Captain.

“ _NO!”_

_“BONES—”_

For Jim, everything suddenly went black.

 

**TBC.....**

 

* * *

 

 **Did you enjoy this piece of textual work? Do you desire it's continuation? It is only logical therefore to leave a kudos or comment.**  (please)

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter. 
> 
> When Cadel finds Jim, he's too frightened to do anything about it and McCoy has to take matters into his own hands. Will Bones be able to capture Cadel or will Cadel capture Jim?

**A/N: This is the final chapter for this, as I've started writing another fic and this is getting pretty milked now. And you know me, I like to finish all my fics so I don't leave you hanging! This was one of my favorite fics to write and I really hope you enjoy this last chapter. My next fic is[here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15379212) with...you guessed it, more hurt/tortured Jim, pretty similar to this actually. Enjoy!**

* * *

 

_Bones’ body collapsed onto the floor with a thump._

_“You actually thought that would work? You thought that hasn’t been tried before?” Cadel roared._

_“Everyone in that other room tried the same thing,” the scientist then added, “Give me the Captain.”_

_When neither man moved, Cadel rolled his eyes._

_“Suit yourselves—” and lunged at the Captain._

_“NO!”_

_“BONES—”_

_For Jim, everything suddenly fell black._

* * *

 

Jim recalled the events prior to his passing out very quickly.

Before opening his eyes, he had assumed he would’ve been a lab rat back on that table yet again.

Instead, two pairs of hands had him under the armpits and appeared to be dragging him across the floor, the heel of his boots bouncing against the ground.

He hadn’t been unconscious for very long, as he was still being dragged along the same room he was in before he passed out.

Either that or the abductor was taking a detour.

He blinked slowly, his mind trying to catch up with his thoughts, watching the room disappear as he was hauled away.

“ _Fuck…Jim…”_

His attention was brought back to the blue figure on the floor, which took Jim 0.3 seconds to realise it was Bones.

And suddenly everything kicked into place.

The cogs in his mind rapidly turning, Jim squeezed his eyes shut and began recoiling weakly, grunting and trying to escape from his captor’s embrace.

Bones was hurt, and he had to get to him.

There was an annoyed grunt from above him, growling, “Keep still you little rat.”

Bones managed to glance up from the ground at the sound of Cadel’s voice, “Damn it man, you’re a scientist, not a murderer,” he strained, struggling back onto his knees, “Jus’ let him go, and tell us what you need.”

Jim heard Cadel snort quietly under his breath; so quiet that Bones probably couldn’t even hear it.

“What I need, is James. With the implant gone I have nothing of the humans left to experiment on, and I will not fail.”

Jim winced as Bones continued to react, “What, you’ve never failed before? Can’t take failure?”

The grip around Jim’s armpits suddenly clenched harder, he bit back a whimper as his skin was torn.

“I’ve never failed. Not like this.” Cadel stated bluntly, “I have lost people, but that was always after I finished the experiment. James will not be the first incomplete experiment.”

Jim snorted, “Well that’s nice of you man, but I’ve got places to be—”

The grip tightened once more, and Jim screeched.

“ _Quiet!”_

Jim bit his tongue.

“Look,” Bones was talking from the floor again, still not having moved from kneeling, “We have a team of scientists, we’ll fix ya damn implant and you guys can get lost, yeah?”

Jim groaned; _that wasn’t a good idea._

“Bones…”

Cadel was quiet however, so perhaps the man might actually be considering the idea.

“It’s a tempting offer, but nothing would be more satisfying than having James on my table to experiment with.”

Bones tried to stand up but fell back to his knees, “He’s not _yours_ to experiment with, damn it! He’s a living person! Would ya like us to do the same damn thing to _you_?”

Cadel snarled, “Is that a threat, little blue man?”

Jim shifted, preparing himself to defend his friend, but was held back with a moan when Cadel anticipated him and tore into his skin again.

“It’s not a threat,” Bones was eying him, trying desperately to get Cadel to drop Jim, “Look, I’m not givin’ ya this offer again. Do you wanna take it or not?”

Jim wanted to shout at him; _no, don’t give him what he wants,_ but at this point he jaw was so clenched he couldn’t even part his lips.

There was a beat of silence.

Judging by the look on his friend’s face, it didn’t look like Cadel was actually going to go through with it.

“The implant will be fully intact and functioning?”

Jim tensed.

“Yeah,” Bones agreed, “It’s not that hard to fix a small broken piece of equipment. It’s not a damned warp core.”

“It is by no means a simple device,” Cadel declared, offended, “But if you can fix it, I will give you James back.”

Jim’s shoulders sagged in relief, a smirk spreading across his face that he tried to hide when Bones spared a quick glance to him.

“However,” the captor continued, “If the implant is non-functional in any way, I will kill your James.”

Bones nodded instantly, “Yeah, alright,” he agreed, knowing that the Enterprise would have captured Cadel by then anyway, “Now let him go.”

Jim felt his blood run cold when Cadel’s icy face suddenly shot down a glare at him, before he was shoved face first into Bones, who immediately grabbed him and held him close.

“Pathetic,” Cadel muttered, before pulling out his phaser and leaving the room, “I will return tomorrow for the functioning implant.”

Jim didn’t see him leave, his face still planted into Bones’ soft shirt, his fingers clenching onto his sleeves like a lifeline.

When he heard the doors hiss open and shut, he let out a whimper and sagged into his friend’s embrace.

“It’s alright,” he heard Bones mumble, a hesitant hand on his back as if unsure of how to comfort him, “My god, Jim, I won’t let that happen again.”

Jim wanted so desperately to speak, to say _something_ that will convince his friend that he was still a stubborn little shit and was only ploughing his face into his shirt because it smelt nice—but his trembling lips stopped him, in fear of breaking into tears.

“We’re gonna get that bastard off the ship—punished for what he did to you. Alright?” Bones pulled Jim away and faced him sternly, “He ain’t getting away with any of this.”

Jim curled his fists, taking a stuttering deep breath and a shaky sigh, wanting to voice the truth that had just came to his realisation.

“He killed my crew,” the words were only a harsh whisper. He wanted to cry.

Bones’ face dropped, and he slowly shook his head, clenching his jaw and bringing Jim close again.

“I’ll see what I can do for them,” he muttered into Jim’s ear.

Jim’s fingers clawed at Bones’ back, “They’re dead.”

He heard Bones sigh heavily, his breath blowing on his hair, “They were in sickbay, Chapel was likely with them. There’s a chance some of them could have been dumped onto biobeds immediately and saved,” he paused, “But I can’t promise anything, Jim.”

Jim nodded into his friend’s shirt, too stunned to say anything else.

His friend was a doctor. And he was  _h_ _is_ doctor.

He could fix them.  _He could fix them..._

* * *

 

A few long minutes had passed, and Jim was still pressed into Bones’ shirt, unable to gather the energy to move away. His friend allowed him to mope, tears forming wetness on blue sleeves.

“Why didn’t security get here?” Jim croaked, the corner of his eyes burning from unshed tears, head still shoved into a patch of wet shirt.

Bones heavily sighed; it took him a while to think of a response. Why the hell  _didn't_ they get here? They had a responsibility to protect their captain, damn it!

“Don’t think they knew, Jim,” he muttered, running a hand through Jim’s hair in a last-ditch attempt to get him to stop shaking, “they didn’t have time to tell anyone.”

Both men looked ridiculous, kneeling on the floor together, Jim having practically attached himself to Bones.

It looked completely unprofessional; something that was running through the back of Jim’s mind.

“Listen, Jim,” Bones finally spoke up, his hand sliding away from Jim’s head and brushing onto his shoulder, “I need to check on medbay, they’re bound to have an emergency and all hell will break loose without me,” he grinned, gently pushing Jim away from him and trying to look his friend in the eyes.

_Still kinda shaking…damn._

“Yeah…yeah, I know,” Jim muttered, releasing his grip from Bones and slouching back, “Go.” He forced a smile.

_Can’t leave him in here like this._

McCoy got to his feet, giving Jim a hand to help him up and glanced towards the door.

A horrible gut instinct told him that Cadel would be in medbay, waiting for them to walk through.

But it would make sense for him to hide away while McCoy fixed the implant, then make his escape once he got what he wanted, which by then was hopefully not going to be the young captain.

Jim began to wander back to his bed, eyes glazed and arms still slightly trembling.

The doctor sighed.

“Jim, with me, c’mon,” he beckoned, gesturing towards the door with a raised eyebrow.

To his surprise, Jim didn’t argue, only offering a heart-hearted shrug and following Bones out the door.

_At least in medbay I can keep an eye on him._

In medbay, McCoy was surprised to see that Cadel was nowhere to be found. What he didn’t like to see however was the fact there was at least 12 members of crew laying on biobeds, one monitor was flashing red and surrounded by his staff, meaning that this patient was probably the most in danger.

McCoy pointed at an empty biobed and stared at Jim, “Sit down and I’ll come see you in a minute,” he ordered, immediately darting off to the red shirt in danger.

M’Benga suddenly appeared out the corner of his eye and began barking a report, “Jacobson is dead and Sampson is critical,” he followed McCoy to the biobed with flashing alarms,

“Rogers is in surgery with Boyce, and Sampson was shot in the leg. Wasn’t critical at first but now he’s losing too much blood,” he informed his CMO, McCoy’s attention drawn to the paddings all over the poor red-shirt’s legs.

“If a bullet was dislodged and nicked his artery, we need to do surgery now,” McCoy demanded, looking around for any assistance. Everyone else seemed to be busy with the other patients.

“How is the Captain?” M’Benga’s abrupt question jolted McCoy’s focus.

“He’s uh…he’s on a spare biobed, he’s not injured as far as I know, but he’s a little shaken up,” he listed off, administering a hypo into the man’s neck and waiting for him to pass out, “Damn bastard Cadel wants me to fix his implant.”

M’Benga looked up from under his eyebrows, “You gonna do it?”

He didn’t exactly have a choice. “I have to. He’d be after Jim if I didn’t.”

How did one scientist manage to overpower an entire ship of over 400 trained officers? It just wasn’t feasible.

“Spock called down while Cadel was in there with you,” M’Benga continued, unclamping the biobed from the wall and effectively turning it into a hoverbed, “Starfleet are going to take the guy by force, they’re forming a strategy or something,”

McCoy nodded, pulling the hoverbed out from the cubicle and guiding it across the room, “’Bout time they tried to do something. Jim’s more shaken than an animal dumped in bath water,” he grumbled, stopping outside the second OR.

He moved aside, allowing M’Benga to lead the hoverbed through the room himself. His friend was a good surgeon, but he couldn’t help but find himself drawn to protect Jim.

Besides, he had to move things along quickly with the implant instead of submitting to his duties…as tempting as it was. Perhaps Jim’s careless behaviour was starting to rub off on him.

“Doctor,”

McCoy turned to the voice of Chapel, who was quickly storming up to him.

“Kirk wants to leave, he’s desperate to see Cadel.”

_God damn it, kid. Don’t you know what’s good for you?_

_No, obviously not._

He sighed, “I’ll handle it nurse,” and immediately headed for Jim.

_Told him I’d deal with him soon anyway._

Of course, as was expected, Jim was sliding off the biobed while another one of his nurses was berating him and demanding he get back on. Clearly, she didn’t know him very well.

“Jim, get back on the damn bed, you’re not going anywhere,” he ordered with a flick of his wrist, stomping to his side and practically slamming his chest down to the mattress.

Jim scowled. “There’s nothing wrong with me. That’s why you let me out my room.”

“No, I let you out so I could keep an eye on you while in here. So, stay here or I’ll make you stay here.”

He retrieved a hypospray and waved it above Jim’s head to prove his point.

Jim folded his arms and sagged back onto the biobed.

“You’re horrible.”

“Damn right.”

 

* * *

 

McCoy sat in front of his desk, tensing and releasing a fist every few seconds.

The implant had finished repairs, apparently completely fixed. He was just waiting for the engineer to come out with the damn thing.

Footsteps quickly echoed through medbay until the door opened to his office.

“Here,” a man said, McCoy turning around to find an engineer waltzing in, “I—uh, sorry, I was supposed to knock—”

“Just come in and show me,” he snapped, standing up from his seat and stepping over to the bewildered man, “Does it work?”

He shrugged, “There’s no way to tell without it being tested. Give it back to the madman, he should be able to test it.”

_Yeah, probably while hurting someone._

“When the hell are Starfleet gonna get here,” he grumbled, taking the implant and analysing it, “Forming a strategy my ass.”

The man cleared his throat. “He’s dangerous, sir, I think they want to make sure no-one else gets killed.”

He scoffed, “By a damn _scientist?”_ this guy wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known.

Throughout the 5-year suicide mission in space, there have been Klingons murdering people for fun, Romulans trying to start a war, species getting offended and trying to murder the human race over an offensive joke and a superhuman relic from the past destroying the whole of San Francisco just to get his own crew back.

And yet Starfleet appeared to be struggling to get this one scientist under control, who’s only mission was to kill Jim.

“A scientist is dangerous when provoked,” the man offered, bringing McCoy’s attention back to him, “Imagine if you went mad on a mission to kill someone. You’d be dangerous too.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have tactical training,” he rolled his eyes, grasping the implant in his hand and wondering how he was going to approach Cadel with it, “You’d be able to shoot me on sight.”

The other man shrugged, offered a light-hearted smile and walked out the room, leaving McCoy alone to stare at the device in his hands.

* * *

 

 

“I must admit, McCoy, I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

The doctor huffed. _Can you get off the damn ship now?_

“I’m a doctor, not an engineer. I didn’t do it, engineering did.”

“Still,” Cadel twiddled the device with his thumbs, “I don’t know if it works or not. Could be a fake.”

_The hell would I give you a fake for? We know you’re a damn scientist!_

“I’ll have to test it of course.”

McCoy rolled his eyes, “Of course you do.”

“Anyone of your crew willing to be a subject?” Cadel gave him a dark smile, the implant in his hands suddenly more threatening than a small piece of metal.

“You’re not experimentin’ on another crew member ever again,” McCoy hissed, taking a step closer, “We fixed ya damned implant, now get off the ship.”

“Are you offering yourself up for it?” Cadel sneered, pressing his forehead threatening against McCoy’s.

“If you’ll get off the damn ship, then you can bet ya bastard ass I will,” McCoy hissed, discreetly sliding his hands down his uniform in search for the pockets.

“Even if it kills you?”

He closed his fist around something, “Even if it kills me.”

The prisoner grinned, “A brave man. I like that.”

McCoy grit his teeth, “Yeah?” he took in a sharp breath and yanked out the hypospray from his pocket, “Hope you like _this—”_

— _WHAM._

The hypo depressed into Cadel’s arm.

“ _Fuck!”_ the device was knocked out of McCoy’s hand, the seething man now driving him across the room with a hand to his neck, _“You son of a bitch!”_

“Well,” the doctor managed to stutter through the chokehold, “I told you, I’m a doctor—all I have is a hypospray.”

Seconds after that, the light in Cadel’s eyes faded and he collapsed—just like that. Onto the floor, like he was nothing.

Taking a deep breath, McCoy pursed his lips against the nagging doctoring thoughts to check on the guy that had just tried to kill him. And Jim. And everyone on the ship.

_God damn it._

“McCoy to security team, I’m in the cargo-bay with Cadel. He’s unconscious…uh…I’m pretty sure you can detain him.”

At least he could just stand here and watch him with a hypo ready in hand.

As a flood of red bodies and yelling voices surrounded him, he could only think of one thing.

_It’s over._

_It’s finally over._

* * *

 

“Attention crew of the Enterprise. The prisoner Cadel has been captured and detained. Stand down from red alert and resume normal duties. Spock out.”

Jim let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and finally allowed his body to slump against the biobed.

His mind revelled in the fact _they’re safe, everyone is finally safe,_ but he couldn’t help but think…

 

_I’m safe. I’m finally safe._

 

“Jim?”

His head shot up at the voice, breaking into a grin when he saw none other than Bones striding towards him.

“Bones,” he sighed in relief, sitting up on his knees, “Your staff have been keeping me prisoner on this bed for hours. Can I go now?”

His friend raised an eyebrow and leaned against the biobed, “You didn’t try to escape?”

“Not even once.”

The eloquent voice of Chapel piped up, “He did try to escape once!” she shouted from across the room.

Jim rolled his eyes while Bones just smirked at him.

“Just once is a record knowing you. How you feelin’?”

Jim took a moment to analyse himself. It felt like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders now that Cadel had been detained.

He sighed.

“I feel okay,” he muttered honestly, “Who got him?”

Bones dragged up a stool and sat beside Jim, “Ya mean Cadel? I did. Well, knocked ‘im out at least,” he waved a hypospray to demonstrate his weapon of choice.

Jim’s body automatically began to defend itself and he shuffled back, his arms tensing up until Bones realised and tucked the device away.

“See, it’s from jabbing you that I’ve become so damn good at using it.”

Jim nodded, forcing himself to relax. He was always going to be nervous around hyposprays, and it wasn’t actually Bones’ fault. His friend just so happened to frequently need to use the device that ailed him.

“Security dragged the bastard out and detained ‘im though. Starfleet have him now.”

Jim once again feebly nodded.

Bones noticed the apprehension in his friend’s body language, “You’re alright, Jim, he’s not comin' back now. They’ll have 'im under lock and key,” he lowered his voice and grinned, “He might be dangerous as a scientist but he’s no ninja.”

Jim fidgeted a little, picking at his shirt, “It’s just…” he sighed, “A lot has happened, y’know? He stuck that implant in my head, and now he has all these images of us. He has my memories. Stuff I don’t want him to know.”

Bones shuffled closer to Jim, looking around to make sure no-one was looking and leaned in close, “Then let the bastard have your memories,” he whispered, “It’s not worth going back there and destroying it. Besides, it was Cadel that was corrupt, not the entire colony,” he explained, then sighed when Jim’s eyes just dropped to his knees.

“Cadel represented them though. As did Ruri. And look what they did.”

A hand fell on Jim’s shoulder, “One person can’t represent the entire race, Jim,” Bones reminded him, grabbing Jim’s chin and forcing him to look him in the eye, “Ruri didn’t know, she refused to do anything when she found out. Cadel was mad with power. The others will use it to help them evolve. And he can’t go anywhere near it now.”

Jim still avoided eye-contact, despite Bones forcing them to look at each other.

“He saw Tarsus,” Jim said simply, as if that explained everything, “He saw Frank.”

Bones lowered his voice, “And he also saw what you are now. A Captain in command of Starfleet’s flagship.”

Jim pondered on this for a moment, before finally looking Bones in the eye. “When did your bedside manner improve this much?”

Bones snorted, releasing his grip on Jim’s chin and shaking his head, “Since you had me wrapped around your finger, you little shit.”

Jim grinned, despite himself, and lay back on the biobed.

“You can go now, y’know,” Bones added, gesturing to the door, “Your vital records for the past two days are stable and there doesn’t seem to be any lasting effects on his…procedures.”

Jim glared at the ceiling and mumbled under his breath, “He had that going for me at least.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“He was a doctor, too, Jim.”

He still refused to look away from the ceiling.

“Yeah he was a bastard and he broke every code he stood for, but he didn’t want to _kill_ you. Using you for his experiments was as far as he allowed himself to go, as shitty as he was.”

Jim shrugged.

“I can sign you off for a few days, if you want. Y’know, if you need to recover, take time to yourself n’ stuff.”

Jim rolled his neck towards Bones.

“You still went through a pretty big ordeal, Jim.”

It was true. He had been kidnapped twice, experimented on twice, and tortured once. Hell, only a week ago his innards had been ripped open while he was awake and screaming.

“I’m fine, Bones,” he lied, sitting up as if that simple action would prove his point.

Bones scoffed under his breath, “Of course you are. Well, if you wanna get back to work, it’s light duties only for a week. Alright?”

Jim nodded, and for once, didn’t argue.

He knew himself that the events of this month would eventually catch up to him while he was sitting on the bridge in passive silence, and he couldn’t do much there when the feelings and thoughts would drown him.

And Bones knew it.

“I’ll take that,” Jim agreed, swinging his legs around the bed and forcing a smile to his friend.

“You’ll recover, Jim, you know that, right?” Bones encouraged, needlessly trying to help Jim stand up, “It’ll pass, and you’ll get back to ya daily routine of pissin’ me off again.”

Jim smirked, looking Bones in the eye for a second too long before turning to leave medbay.

He stopped, strolled back over to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. Bones whizzed back around with a comically shocked looked on his face.

“The hell are you—”

“Bones.”

“…Yeah?”

“Thanks. For…everything you did for me. And are doing. And have done. And will do. And well—”

“Jim,” Bones placed his own hands on Jim’s shoulders as well, “You gettin’ soft on me?”

Jim smirked.

“And you’re welcome, kid.”

Jim revelled in the warm fuzzy feeling swamping his stomach. It was a rarity, and he’d take it any day.

“Now go piss off someone else!”

Jim playfully smacked him on the shoulder and snorted, “Will do, Bones!”

He very vaguely heard his friend mutter one of his favourite insults under his breath, “ _Damn infant.”_

* * *

FIN. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new fic is [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15379212)  
> More tortured Jim, hooray! Except the first chapter is pretty graphic so watch out :))


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